I 




Class F H ( P \z . c> 
Book. .A^QA- 
G^right N° 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



" 

A LITTLE WORLD 

A Series of College Plays for Girls 



By 

ALICE GERSTENBERG 



CHICAGO 
THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 



i^y* 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

NOV 2 1908 

Copy riant jLntrv 



;lass /T] x> 



XXc, No, 



C( ' 



JE I 



Copyright, 1908, by 
ALICE GERSTENBERG 



TO 

MY MOTHER AND FATHER 

WHO SHARE WITH ME MY DELIGHT IN COLLEGE LIFE 

THIS BOOK OF PLAYLETS IS 

LOVINGLY DEDICATED. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

The Class President 7 

Two Acts. 

Twelve Characters, Girls. 

Time of Performance, 45 minutes. 

Captain Joe 51 

Two Acts. 

Eleven Characters, Girls. 

Time of Performance, 45 minutes. 

Betty's Degree 91 

Two Acts. 

Nine Characters, Girls. 

Time of Performance, 45 minutes. 

The Class Play 139 

Two Acts and Epilogue. 
Eleven Characters, Girls. 

Time of Performance, 1 hour, 30 minutes. 



1 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT 



! 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

First produced at the Anna Morgan Studios, Fine 
Arts Building, Chicago, March 12, 1908, with the fol- 
lowing cast : 

Louise Moore, class president. . Miss Alice Gerstenberg 

Pat Dickenson, her room-mate 

Miss Prudence Jackson 

Bert Smith, ) p a f s ( Miss Marguerite Rln-er 
Sidney Dale, > . •] Miss Esther Kelly 

Chip Plymton, ) c° tenc - ( Miss Salina Livingston 

Mary, the mail mistress Miss Shirley Waters 

Florence Goodrich,] \ Actresses ( Miss Adele Swabacker 

Dorothy Davis, J class' { Miss Rae Rosenstein 

Harriet Fleming, ) jj ( Miss Imogens Rinkr 
Sadie Foster, >• n sno u s >> ] Miss Dorothy Glover 

Cora Seawell, ) ( Miss Emily Stearns 

May Runnels Miss Laura Turner 

Girls of the Class, not necessary, but more effective. 



Place. 
A College in the East. 

Time. 
The Present. 

Plays forty-five minutes. 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT. 
ACT I. 

Scene. Study of Louise and Pat; Boor 
L. two B.; writing tables R. and L. Man- 
tel B. C. Bookcase, pillows, tea table, 
posters, banners, rackets, golf sticks, etc, 
for college room. Girls in evening dress. 
Time, evening. Pat at table L., studying 
under lamp. Mail mistress, Mary, 
knocks. 

Pat. Come in. 

Mary. [Enters, gives Pat batch of let- 
ters.] A whole bunch for you, Pat. [Puts 
one letter on desk R.] Louise only gets 
one. 
Pat. The mail seems late to-night. 
Mary. A whole hour. The mail man 
was delayed by the snow in coming up from 
the station. 

Pat. It's a beastly night. 
Mary. Pretty big blizzard; we'll have 
some good skating when it stops. Good 
night. 

Pat. Letters, but not the one I want; 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

even mother's letter won't satisfy — now — 
I wonder if [Goes to desk R.] Louise! 0, 
if I had only known him before I helped 
Louise to win him. [Weighs letter in her 
hand,] She doesn't understand him, his 
aims, political ambitions She is a child; 
the wife of a future foreign ambassador 
must be quick and subtle. Louise is too 
true. I wonder if I dare — it would be dis- 
honest — I could never forgive myself — yet 
— what does he say! [Opens letter, reads 
only heading.'] "To my sweet little class 
president" — "My dream girl." [In pain,] 
Oh — for him to call her that! — after my 
poem of the "Dream Girl." He thinks she 
wrote it, that her heart has been aching to] 
be called that by one whom she — loves— 
and — and that name is a part of myself! 
Why, why, didn't I meet him before I 
taught Louise how to win him ! 

Harriet Fleming. [Opens door.] Louise 
in? 

Pat. [Startled.] No, she is at a sup- 
per party. 

Harriet. Without you? 



10 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Pat. Not our set: merely presidential 
policy on her part. 

Harriet. [Laughs.] 0, I see! [Exit.] 
Pat. Bnrn it? But it belongs to Louise ; 
— tell her I opened it by mistake. [Returns,. 
to her own desk.] " Little class president" 
— he seems impressed by her honor — her 
aptitude for political affairs, I suppose, but 
he doesn't know it was I who canvassed for 
her — that I am the power behind the 
throne — oh, dear, I'm afraid I'm getting 
jealous of Louise — [Singing of " Auld 
Lang Syne" heard in distance, Pat tries to 
study.] The girls are returning from glee 
club. [Girls singing come nearer, Beth, 
Syd, Chip enter, others pass doivn corridor 
humming.] 

Beth, Syd, Chip. [In chorus.] Hello, 
Pat, working hard! Don't be such an 
angel ! 

Pat. You seem well drilled! 

Chip. We met the mail on the way, and 
were told you were working. 

Syd. We came to interrupt you for f ear 
you'd have more chances at Heaven than 
the rest of us lazy-bones. 

11 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Beth. I don't think it's good for you to 
study so much. You will be a nervous 
wreck by Christmas time ! 

Syd. She got high credit in Psychology. 

Beth. I should think she would when 
every month she has a story accepted by 
the College Chronicle. 

Chip. Don't forget to mention that sev- 
eral of those stories are written by Pat, but 
signed Louise. Think of the furor that lit- 
tle poem of the "Dream Girl" made when 
it came out in the College Chronicle. Ev- 
erybody except us thinks Louise wrote it. 

Pat. Ssh! Ssh! 

Chip. Excuse me, excuse me, little 
birdie peeped too loud. 

Syd. Well, you haven't told us yet what 
kind of a time you had at the house party. 

Pat. Oh, bully! 

Syd. Who was there? 

Pat. Three girls and three men, but no- 
body you know except Louise, of course, 
and a man whom I met for the first time, 
John Curson. 

Girls. [In chorus.] Was he there? Tell 

us about him. 

12 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Beth. Still so uninterested in feminin- 
ity? j 

Pat. No, decidedly convivial. 

Chip. Perhaps his golf has improved. 

Beth. You are always thinking of golf ; 
what was the reason, Pat? 

Pat. Ask me. 

Beth. Well, I do. 

Chip. Got anything to eat? 

Pat. You'll find some candy in my 
room. 

Chip. All right. [Exit L.] 

Pat. He seemed suddenly to have awak- 
ened from his trance, they said, and was at 
last aware that there were girls around. 
We quite impressed him. 

Chip. [Off.] Where did you say the 
candy was? 

Pat. On my washstand — He really 
danced consecutively all Saturday night, 
instead of retiring, as usual, in boredom. 

Syd. Did he get dippy about you? 

Pat. Well, my dear, — Louise — 

Chip. [Off.] Where is that candy? 

13 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Pat. Can't you find it? Look in my 
suitcase, under the bed; where did I put 
it? Try the shoe-box; I was in such a 
hurry to get to ray lectures this morning. 

Syd. But he was dippy about you? 

Pat. Well, Louise — 

Chip. [Off.] Pat, I can't find the 
candy, but there is some condensed milk 
on your window sill. Can we make some 
hot chocolate? 

Pat. Certainly; where is that candy? 
[Goes L.] Syd, you'll find the chocolate 
in the bookcase. [Exit,] 

Beth. I'm sick of hearing about 
Louise — it's always Louise with every girl 
in college, and Pat is really behind it all; 
I'm tired of this farce! 

Syd. It isn't right, it really isn't. 

Beth. Who virtually directs the class 
meetings ? 

Beth and Syd. Pat! 

Beth. Who remembers all the conven- 
tions and saves the class from making 
ignominious official moves? 

Beth and Syd. Pat! 



14 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Beth. Who writes Louise's presiden- 
tial speeches? 

Syd. They sound like Pat. 

Beth. It's always Pat. [Arranges 
cups on tea table. Enter Pat and Chip 
with milk and candy. ,] 

Pat. Where do you think I found the 
candy? The chamber-maid used it as a 
prop for my three-legged bureau! Didn't 
you find the spoons in the book-case? 

Beth. Nope, only the chocolate. 

Pat. Of course; Louise took them into 
her room to wash. [Exit Beth R.] You 
know I think housekeeping at college is 
awfully strenuous; mother would have a 
fit if she saw this. [Blows dust out of 
cup.] 

Syd. I always allow three days for 
cleaning up before my mother arrives, and 
even then on the third day the girls are 
bound to demand afternoon tea to plague 
me, and mess all my dishes up again. 

Beth. [Enters from R.] There are 
no spoons there. 

Pat. How stupid of me! That little 
15 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

freshman across the corridor borrowed 
them over Sunday. I'll get them on my 
way back from the tea pantry; I'm off for 
the hot water. [Exit R. B.] 

Beth. [Stirring mixture with paper- 
cutter. ,] I'll muggle Pat's "goo." You 
know the folks at home think we are crazy 
to mix sweet chocolate and milk like this, 
but I can't drink the cook's cocoa now; it's 
too weak — look here, Chip, you're for Pat, 
aren't you? 

Chip. Sure, Mike. 

Syd. Why not put her up for class 
president? 

Chip. But Pat is already booming 
Louise up for her second year of the presi- 
dency. 

Beth. It's a pretty mean trick for us, 
it seems to me, to doom Pat to another 
year of work without getting the credit 
for it. 

Chip. Well, that is true; the elections 
come off on Thursday afternoon, so we 
have lots of time to put Pat up ; by Jove, 
I'm crazy to. 

16 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Syd. The class seems dead solid for 
Louise already, though. 

Beth. What if it is! We have to 
make Pat popular at Louise's expense. 
Chip. But how? 
Syd. We'll have to plan that. 
Beth. Simply show the class that 
Louise has been nothing but a puppet in 
Pat's hands ever since she was made 
president, a year ago. 

Chip. But how to do that? 

[Enter Pat with spoons, kettle of hot 
water, box of crackers, open bottle 
of olives.] 

Pat. Pour the hot water on the "goo," 
Chip, and there are the spoons. I swiped 
the crackers and the olives from one of my 
neighbors; where is that paper-cutter? 
Shoot it! too big. Anybody got a hat pin? 
Nobody has a hat pin? Louise has one in 
there, Chip. [Chip exit R. and re-enter 
again with pin.] I won't hunt for any- 
thing more in my room. The mice will 
have plenty of things on the floor to play 
hide and seek with to-night. My goodness, 
what are you all so grave about? 

17 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Beth. We have been considering the 
.advisability of elaborating upon a system 
by which yon might be the recipient of the 
favors we consider yonr due. 

Pat. Your temperature sounds high! 

Syd. We want to make you president, 
Pat. 

Pat. That is very kind of you. 

Chip. Would you really like to be 
president, Pat? 

Pat. [Aside.] He'd like it; if Louise 
lost the election it might mean that he 
would care less and — 

Beth. We were on the point of debat- 
ing— 

Syd. Fiddle-sticks; we don't know. 

Chip. What would you suggest, Pat? 

Pat. Rather queer of you to ask me 
that, isn't it? — especially, since I've can- 
vassed Louise to the nines already. 

Beth. What is her most vulnerable 
part in the opinion of the class? 

ISyd. Snobbery, I should say; she is 
too identified with our clique. 

Pat. But Louise is the most demo- 
cratic of us all. 

18 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT: 

Beth. But the class doesn't think so, 
and that is the point; if we could make 
Louise seem very much of a snob and lord- 
ing it over you, it's only the few of us 
who really know your influence over her, 
we might succeed in ingratiating you in 
the class's favor. 

Std. I have it! In class meeting this 
noon, you remember, the class voted that 
the committee to select the play and cast 
should be appointed by the president! In- 
fluence Louise to appoint only snobs whom 
we can control. 

Pat. Brilliant and simple! I see it 
all. 

Chip. So quickly? It shows your wit 
for president; the scheme is taking some 
time to penetrate my skull; it's pretty 
tough from all the golf balls that have 
struck it. But, if — 

Louise. [Outside.] I hope you will 
have more success than I did in crossing 
the campus. 

Giels. Sish! Louise! 

Louise. [Enters R., cape over even- 
ing gown covered with snow.]: Hello, 

19 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

girls; I haven't seen you since Pat and I 
returned from the house-party last night. 
How cozy you look; I'm soaked; drifts of 
snow a foot deep across the sidewalks. 
[Dries feet at fire.] 

Pat. Just a moment and I'll have your 
chocolate ready; it will warm you up. 

Louise. Don't trouble, dear, I'll do it. 
[Goes to her desk, surprised at letter 
being opened, says nothing, puts it in her 
corsage without reading.] Been having a 
good time? 

Syd. Glee club. 

Chip. "Where have you been? 

Louise. Down in Chester Hall — Kate 
Black's supper party. 

Beth. Shouldn't think you would care 
to have anything to do with her. 

Louise. I don't, particularly, only Pat 
said it would be good policy for me to go ; 
to show I'm in sympathy with all the mem- 
bers of the class. 

Beth. Why lower your dignity to min- 
gle with the pills? 

Louise. I, don't want to be unkind 
Beth. 

20 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Syd. The hall is a box of pills. 

Louise. But I have to know the indi- 
viduals of the class in more than a casual 
way. In appointing committees — 

Pat. Oh, yes, Louise, whom have you 
decided to put on that committee to select 
the play? 

Louise. iWell, I haven 't really thought 
about it yet ; I Ve been so busy with a score 
of other class matters which heaped up 
over Sunday. I suppose, though, Good- 
rich and Davis and — 

Pat. But Goodrich and Davis are the 
best actresses in the class. They ought 
not to choose the cast. 

Louise. Why not? They know so 
much about acting they would find the 
suitable person for each part. 

Beth. [Aside.] That is too demo- 
cratic ! 

Pat. They would take the leading 
parts for themselves, and, of course, they 
deserve them; but it would look better if 
a committee appointed them. 

Louise. That is true; and, anyway, 
21 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

they will be given the leading parts, won't 
they? They have had them in every play 
we have ever given, and the whole college 
thinks them our stars. 

Chip. Cora Seawell has never been on 
a committee before. 

Louise. Hasn't she? Then I'll put her 
on. [Writes doivn name.] 

Chip. [Aside.] She is awfully snob- 
bish. 

Beth. Put Pat on. 

Pat. [Quickly.] No, I won't be on. 
How many did the class vote to have? 

Louise. Five — I'll put you down, Beth 
and Syd — that's three — I can't put you 
on, too, Chip, it wouldn't be fair; Kate 
Black— 

Syd. The girl to whose supper party 
you went to-night? 

Louise. Yes. 

Pat. Don't do that. 

Louise. Why? 

Pat. The class will think she bribed 
you by asking you to her party. 

Louise. 0, how horrid! I never 

thought of that. 

22 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Pat. Put down Harriet Fleming. 

Louise. [Writes it.] And how about 
Lill Jeremsf 

Syd. She is such a pill. 

Beth. Not a grain of wit. 

Chip. Too easily persuaded. Eats an 
awful lot. [Eats candy.] 

Pat. [Aside.] Eeally a dreadful 
fighter. 

Louise. How is Hester Scott? 

Syd. 0, pshaw! 

Beth. Impossible. 

Chip. Dreadful pill. 

Louise. Why! 

Chip. Oh, I don't know; don't like the 
color of her hair. 

Louise. But I must take some one who 
isn't in our clique; the class must be rep- 
resented. 

Pat. Put in Sadie Foster. 

Louise. [Writes.] There, that makes 
five. Girls, you should have seen the 
professors snow-balling each other; it was 
more fun, and, girls, did Pat tell you what 

23 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

a splendid time we had at the house- 
party? She met John Curson at last. He 
gave us each a box of candy when we left. 
Why didn't you offer my candy to the 
girls, Pat? I'll get it. [Exit R.] 

Beth. We have that committee packed 
to suit us all right, all right. Weren't we 
clever? She really is sweet, and dotes on 
you, Pat. 

[Louise returns ivitli box of candy, 
and girls, because they have been 
'plotting against her, nervously be- 
gin to sing college songs; then bell 
tolls.] 

Pat. Quiet hours, ssh! or we will be 
proctored. 

["Ssh" is heard in corridor, Beth, Syd 
and Chip rise and putting hands on 
each others shoidders tip-toe c lit- 
tle dance out of room with "ssh", 
"ssh" in the time of the chorus they 
have just been singing and quietly 
close door behind .them. Louise 
takes out her letter to read. Pause.] 

Pat. I'm awfully sorry, but I opened 
your letter by mistake. 

24 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Louise. Did you I Then it is all right ; 
I thought it was rather queer. Have you 
one? 

Pat. Who from? 

Louise. John Curson? 

Pat. Why should I? 

Louise. [Puts arms about Pat.] Oh, 
Pat, isn't it great! 

Pat. What? 

Louise. Having a big strong man in love 
with you? I have been so excited all day; 
I didn't understand a word of the lectures 
this morning. What do you think? I found 
in reading over my lectures that every- 
where I should have written Louis in my 
history notes, I wrote — John. I know I am 
a silly little goose, Pat, but I am in love 
this time. 

Pat. You didn't tell me yesterday that 
he had — proposed. 

Louise. He didn't, dear, it's here. He 
says he has been miserable ever since I left 
and must have a promise that — read it. 

Pat. No, no, I don't want to read 
your — 

25 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Louise. Of course you do ; I insist upon 
it. [Pat reads.] Do you suppose I am 
going to let a man separate us even to that 
extent! Our friendship is too old and 
means too much [Referring to letter], isn't 
it, dear? 

Pat. It's very sweet to have that writ- 
ten to one. 

Louise. I told him what good friends 
we are and have been since we met three 
years ago ; he said he would love you, too, 
for my sake; when we are married you 
must join us on our wedding trip. 

Pat. You are getting there rather soon, 
aren't you? 

Louise. I suppose I am a little previous 
— not until a year from now when we have 
our degrees — seems a long time to wait. 
But don't tell the girls, Pat, they would 
never stop teasing me. You know, dear, 
when he complimented me on the stories 
and your poem of "The Dream Girl" I 
couldn't confess to him that you had signed 
my name and had them printed in the mag- 
azine before you told me. Was it awfully 
wrong of me not to confess? They pleased 

26 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

him so and I knew it really wouldn't make 
any difference to you. You'll forgive me, 
won't you? 

Pat. I am glad they pleased him. 

Louise. He was awfully interested in 
your conversation at the house party, Pat, 
I was almost jealous, but after your coach- 
ing T managed to talk politics beautifully. 
Will you give me some new ideas on the 
war question to-morrow? 

Pat. What are you going to do now? 

Louise. Write him — everything. 

Pat. Everything? 

Louise. What I think and feel and — I 
am not boring you, Pat? 

Pat. Go on. 

Louise. If I am, it is because I am so 
used to discussing everything with you. It 
has been so cozy living together at college 
and I love every silly little trophy in this 
room, the good times we have had — and the 
one true friend I have made here — 
[Pause.] Well, I am going to write that 
letter now. [Louise scribbles fast, Pat 
tries to study — pause — Chip opens door R. 
B.I 

27 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Chip. Good-night. [Exit.] 

[Pause — enter Syd in kimono, with 
look, R. B.] 

Syd. [In despair.] Pat, did he give us 
all that to read for to-morrow? Sallama- 
fusselm! I think the amount is a crime! 
Why, I've been working on it all evening! 
I've got to stay up until midnight. [Exit.] 
[Proctored by " Ssh" in hall as she 
goes out.] 

Louise. [Seals letter.] It's all done, 
Pat : and now I am going to bed to dream 
— haven't enough wit left to study. Are 
you going to stay up? 

Pat. Yes, I have some economics to tab. 

Louise. Good night, then [Kisses Pat] ; 
I hope your dreams will be as sweet as I 
know mine are going to be. [Exit R.] 

Pat. Good night. 

Betk. [In kimono, opens door R. B.] 
I just discovered I have a critical essay due 
to-morrow at ten o'clock; what shall I take 
for a subject? 

Pat. [Without looking around.] The 
problems of human existence. 

Beth. What? 

28 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Pat. The morals of Shaw. 
[Exit Beth R. B.] 

Louise. [Off R.] Pat, I forgot my let- 
ter and I'm undressed; will you please put 
it down the chute in the hall? I want it to 
leave by the early morning mail. [Throws 
letter oat on floor — Pat picks it up — pan- 
tomime, burns it.] 

Louise. [Cheerfully off R.~\ Good night, 
dear. 

Pat. [Almost crossly.] Good night. 
[Pause.'} ' ' My little Dream Girl. ' ' 

CURTAIN. 



29 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT. 



ACT II. 

Scene. The same. Pat is giving a tea 

party just before the election. A feiv 

days later. Buzz of conversation. Whole 

'cast on. 

Beth. [Aside to Syd.] Do you think 
it will pan out? 

Syd. It's got to. 

Beth. Pat has invited all the pills to 
win them over. [Buzz.] 

Mary. Let's have the " Goodrich-Davis 
stunt." 

Dorothy Davis. Aren't you sick of that 

yet? 

Girls. [Clap.] No, do give it, come, 
now, do! 

[Davis bends to look like old woman, 
draws in lips as if she had no teeth, 
talks in character voice, Goodrich 
seats herself left, pantomime of the 
woman in an intelligence office.] 
Daves. [To Goodrich.] Good morning, 
are you very busy to-day ? Have you a but- 
ler coachman desiring a situation? 

30 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Goodrich. A butler and a coachman, 
madam? 

Davis. No, indeed, not both, a bntler 
who knows how to coach and a coachman 
that can buttle. Yon see, ever since the de- 
cease of my dear departed husband, Jere- 
miah B abler, I am Mrs. B abler. The chil- 
dren have wished me to move into a neigh- 
borhood more fashionable these days, but 
I have insisted upon remaining in the old 
homestead; but the children have been for- 
cible in their protestations. Last evening 
my son Horace, he is 33, stood on a plate 
and waved a chair above his head — as a 
demonstration of his earnestness — I mean 
he stood upon a chair — you know I always 
get the horse before the cart. Now, Isa- 
bella, and Natalie are debutants this year, 
so they say I must make a good appearance 
for their sakes. 

Goodrich. How much would you be will- 
ing to give a coachman, madam? 

Davis. That would depend upon how 
well he buttles. Horace has a butler that 
takes my breath away, his collars choke 
him so, and he serves the after-dinner cof- 

31 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

fee cups so nicely in the coffee; and his 
horse olives, or what do you call those 
spicy sandwiches they serve before the 
soup — at any rate, a coachman butler ought 
to make splendid horse olives, oughtn't he? 
Goodrich. Madam, did you desire — 
Davis. No, I don't want any one by the 
name of Meyer; it must be a fashionable 
name; I should much prefer Leontes or Pa- 
ola. My son Horace says I mustn't get too 
far behind the band wagon. I shouldn't 
really, now, should I? 

Goodrich. What kind of a man — 
Davis. A very kind man, of course, who 
will be kind to the horse and the cook ; the 
cook is a good old soul, but in a temper once 
she almost killed a doughnut with Jere- 
miah. The accident might have been seri- 
ous, but fortunately only the hole struck my 
husband's little finger. 

Goodrich. I have never had any appli- 
cants for such a position. 

Davis Have you not! Then I am very 
much afraid you are not in the band wagor- 
at all. Mrs. Cornelius Jones, Jones Cray- 
field, Alexander Jones, has such an one ; £ 

32 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

see him sneak from the house to the stables 
and drive up in front with the horses ; when 
she is out and I call on her I always wait 
to see that she is out when I call. There is 
a card pinned to the door, "bell broken." 
There is nothing to prevent me from hav- 
ing a bell broken, now, is there? 

Goodrich. Madam, I can only offer you 
a coachman. 

Davis. I am sorry, that will not do at 
all; I shall have to ask Mrs. Cornelius 
Jones, Jones Crayfield, Alexander Jones, 
just where Mr. Cornelius Jones, Jones 
Crayfield, xVlexander Jones procured a 
coachman who could buttle. [Applause 
from girls.] 

Chip. [To Mary.] Aren't you excited 
about the elections? 

Mary. Not very. Everybody expects 
Louise to be re-elected. 

Beth. [To May.] You know Pat has 
been put up. 

May Runnels. Eeally ! How interesting, 
room-mates against each other. Why? 

Beth. Slews of people in the class think 
Pat is a little more democratic than Louise, 

33 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

and cleverer. She does so much work for 
the class and ought to have the honor for 
at least one year. 

May E. You are right there. 

Beth. Bully for you. [Aside to Syd.] 
That's number six for me. 

Cora. You aren't looking very well to- 
day, Louise. 

Louise. No? I haven't thought about 
it; do you know if the afternoon mail has 
come? 

Coea. Yes, I think it has ; looking for a 
letter? 

Louise. "Well — I thought — mother might 
write — that's all. 

May E. Good bye, Pat ; it was sweet of 
you to ask me to your tea. 

Pat. Don't hurry off yet. We are all 
going to the class meeting for the elections. 

May E. Then I'll wait. 

Mary. [To Goodrich and Davis.] Aren't 
you excited, Florence Goodrich and you, 
Dorothy Davis, about the play? It has 
leaked out that the committee has chosen 
"The School for Scandal," and, of course, 

34 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

everybody knows yon will be Sir Peter and 
yon Lady Teazle. 

Goodrich. Wasn't it a qneer committee, 
though? 

Mary. Why? 

Goodrich. Not a girl in it that knows 
beans abont acting! 

Davis. I don't like to be pessimistic, bnt 
I'm not so snre about getting a part. 

Goodrich. It will kill me if they have 
cnt me out. 

Mary. Oh, but, my dear, I am sure they 
haven't. 

Chip. [Coming* doivn.] Eather queer 
committee for Louise to have chosen, I 
think. 

Davis. She almost always chooses queer 
ones. 

Chip. Well, Pat didn't approve of her 
choice, but what can one do ? Pat is so sen- 
sible, too. Louise is awfully sweet and gra- 
cious, but to be president 

Daves. One must assert oneself. 

Chip. You know they have Pat up for 
president ? 



5 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Davis. Yes. 

Chip. Think you'll vote for her? 

Davis. I don 't tell any one whom I vote 
for. 

Chip. [Moves off to Beth.] One wet 
blanket that time. 

Goodrich. [To Davis.] If I am not in 
the cast I'll be furious; horribly snobbish 
committee. 

Syd. [To Pat.] Do you think Louise 
can spoil the plan by saying anything? 

Pat. She hasn't the courage and she 
isn't quick enough to get herself out of a 
difficulty. I see no reason why the plan 
should not work. [Buzz of conversation.] 

Louise. [B,aps on table.] May I please 
call the — tea party to order? I have been 
requested to let the chairman of the play 
committee read her report here as every 
one is anxious to know what play has been 
selected. Will the chairman read the re- 
port? 

Beth. According to class vote the com- 
mittee for the play was appointed by the 
president. The play chosen by said com- 

36 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

mittee is Sheridan's "School for Scandal." 
[Applause.] The cast is as follows: 

Sir Peter Chip Plynton 

Lady Teazle Pat Dickenson 

[Gasps from girls.] 
Pat. [Excited bravado manner.] The 
choice is absurd; I never acted in my life 
and Chip is an elephant in costume. There 
must be some mistake. I insist that an- 
other committee be named that shall cast 
the parts according to merit ; we want jus- 
tice, not favoritism ! 

[Clapping of hands, exclamations of 
"Bully for Pat, Vm going, to vote 
for her; why doesn't Louise say 
something?"] 
Beth. Let's get a new committee after 
we have voted for president. The rest of 
the class must be waiting for us now in the 
students ' sitting room. 
Syd. To the elections! 
Chip. Come on, girls! [Excited rush 
to door R. B.] 

Louise. [Authoritatively.] Stop! One 
moment. The class meeting will wait. I 
wish to speak to the committee in your 
presence. 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 



Chip. But- 
Syd. But- 



Louise. Will the meeting please come to 
order? Cora Seawell, why did you vote to 
give Chip and Pat the leading parts? 

Coea. Why I — thought they could do it. 

Louise. But why not to some one you 
know can act? 

Cora. I wanted to give somebody else a 
chance. 

Louise. To ruin the play and our rep- 
utation ? 

Coea. It isn't fair to cast the same peo- 
ple every time. 

Louise. Were you asked to vote for 
them? 

Coea. No. 

Louise. You did it of your own accord. 

Coea. Yes. 

Louise. You thought it over carefully? 

Coea. Yes. 

Chip. Bother the play; we don't want 
the parts, give them to Goodrich and 
Davis. Let's go to the election. 

Louise. Will the meeting please come 

38 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

to order? Harriet Fleming, was the vote 
for Chip and Pat unanimous? 

Harriet. Yes. 

Louise. "Without discussion? 

Harriet. No. 

Louise. Ah, then there was discussion? 

Harriet. No. 

Louise. How no? 

Harriet. As to the choice of play. 

Louise. Sadie Foster, you still think 
you made a wise choice? 

Sadie. Yes. 

Louise. You were not persuaded to the 
decision? 

Sadie. No. 

Louise. You decided so in a committee 
meeting? 

Sadie. No. 

Louise. Who was in your room last 
night? 

Sadie. Why, Beth 

Beth. [Quickly.] She means Beth Cax« 
ton. 

Louise. Cora, was Syd with you las* 
night ? 

39 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Cora. Yes. 

Louise. Ah, she teas. 

Syd. Cora means that as I passed her 
room and saw her sitting there I called out 
" Hello.' ' 

Cora. That is what I meant. 

Louise. Why were yon in Cora's hall, 
Syd? 

Syd. I went to see Jane Lester. 

Louise. At what time? 

Syd. Nine. 

Pat. Ten. 

Louise. You, too? Jane was in here 
last night at nine o 'clock ; she remained an 
hour. Circumstantial evidence is against 
you; you must have had some strong mo- 
tive for visiting Cora, that you take such 
pains to conceal the fact. This looks as if 
there had been false play somewhere. You 
know the reasons, Syd, for these selec- 
tions? 

Syd. No. 

Louise. But you couldn't discuss with- 
out knowing something? 

Syd. No. 



40 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Louise. Then you did know. 

Syd. Yes. 

Louise. You just said you didn't; and 
Beth knows your reasons, and Pat? 

Pat. I was not on the committee. 

Beth. You didn 't want Pat on the com- 
mittee. 

Louise. She did not wish to be! She 
declared so vehemently ; so she knows, too. 

Syd. Yes. 

Louise. Ah, then she does know, thank 
you! Then will the committee explain its 
reasons for casting the play in this way? 
Will you explain your reasons? 

Pat. Beally, it is a very ridiculous situ- 
ation — I don't wish to explain, it is all so 
petty — don 't you think we had better go on 
to the election? 

Louise. I declare the play committee 
dissolved, and will leave the selection of 
another one to the president, my successor. 
Let us go to the class meeting. 

[As girls rush out, exclamations of "I 
never saw Louise have such poise; 
what do you suppose it is all about? 
I'm going to vote for Louise, she 9 s 

41 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

been bully to keep her temper like 
that. I guess I'll change my mind 
about voting for Pat."] 
Beth. [Aside to Pat.] We're lost. 
Chip. But we can still try; come on, 
girls. [Exit all but Louise.] 

Louise. Just a moment alone to think; 
I don 't understand it ; and Pat, that is what 
hurts most; I mustn't show my agitation 
as I go in. [About to leave room ivhen tel- 
ephone rings; answers it.] "Hello, yes, 
this is Louise Moore — who, — Jack Curson 
— I, cold? I'm sure I don't know what you 
expect me to be — answer your letter? Why, 
I did! You didn't get it? Oh, I'm so 
glad." 

May E. [Calls.] Louise, the class is 
waiting for you. 

Louise. I can't come now — long dis- 
tance connection — have the vice-president 
take my place — He never got it — lie never 
got it! [Exit girl] Your other letter? 
When? Yesterday morning? No. That 
is strange! How could I forget you; do 
you really? As much as that? All for my- 
self? — and not because I'm class president? 



42 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

You had forgotten that! but I'm awfully 
worried about some college matters ; I 
shouldn't worry? It's only a little world, 
you say, and you don't care a snap about 
it only because it holds me? [Laughs.] Oh, 
Jack, you're just bully! One year long to 
wait? But I want my degree. You don't 
care? Yes, I'd love to meet you there at 
one to-morrow. Well, I would like a lob- 
ster and a — chocolate parfait — good bye. 
[After she has hung up receiver she sags 
an enthusiastic "dear" into the phone.] 
Now, that class meeting! 

[Opens door and stops to listen; the 
class is cheering " Zim, bum, bah, 
rah, rah, rah, Moore. 99 Girls rush 
doivn hall and in doorway; congrat- 
ulate Louise upon re-election. Exit 
Louise. Stage empty for a while, 
noise outside; enter Pat alone, shows 
her disappointment. Pause. Enter 
Beth, Chip and Syd.] 

Beth. [Arms around Pat.] Oh, we are 
so sorry. 

Chip. Wasn't Louise the limit? 

Pat. I never thought she had it in her; 

43 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

the plan would have worked beautifully if 
she had been unable to grasp the situation. 

Syd. Yes, the class was wild to elect 
you right after you made your heroic 
speech against favoritism. 

Chip. Yes, but I would rather Pat had 
not said I look like an elephant in costume ! 

Pat. Well, it's all over and we'll have 
to make the best of it. 

Beth. But it makes me furious to think 



Louise. [Enters, goes to Pat.] I'm 
awfully sorry, Pat. 

Beth. [Sneeringly.] We congratulate 
you, Louise. 

Louise. If I had only known long ago 
how you cared, but you were always push- 
ing me forward so I never dreamed of it. 
And now — girls, please sit down, we are 
alone and can talk more openly. 

Beth. It seems to me you spoke openly 
enough at the tea to make us appear like 
fools. 

Louise. You forced me to defend my 
honor; it came so quickly I couldn't fore- 
see the effect it would have on the elections* 

44 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Why did you influence me to appoint such 
a committee and persuade it to cast the 
parts in such an unreasonable way, then 
publicly denounce it? 

Syd. Because we wanted Pat for presi- 
dent and wanted to show the class what a 
little fool you are 

Pat. Don't, Syd, don't 

Syd. Because we are tired of having 
Pat run you without getting the credit. You 
might thank us for concealing the true rea- 
sons from the class. 

Louise. [Sloivly.] If you had not kept 
the true reasons from the class, you would 
have no influence left; as it is, the class 
looks upon the whole affair as a petty plot 
to annoy me ; a joke, if you will ; I had in- 
tended withdrawing my name from the 
nominations, as soon as I discovered you 
had put Pat up, but at the important mo- 
ment I could not do so without losing my 
self-respect. 

'Pat. It's a stupid affair, Louise, and 
after all very petty and of no importance 
a hundred years from now; let's forget 
about it and begin where we left off. 



45 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Chip. ^Whistle a foul and throw the ball 
again. 

Beth. In my opinion we've queered 
ourselves a bit with the class and it's up to 
us to make good again. 

Pat. I'll write a lyric about it and we'll 
laugh it off. [Knock at door.] Come. 

Maky. [Opens door.] I was just pass- 
ing by and stopped to congratulate Louise. 
[Starts oat.] 

Louise. Oh, Mary. 

Maky. Yes. 

Louise. Are you sure you haven't lost 
any letters addressed to me? 

Maky. I think not. You were never in 
when I brought them, so I put them on 
your desk or gave them to Pat. 

Louise. To Pat? 

Mary. Yes, I 

Louise. That will do. [Exit Mary.] 
There has been more foul play here ; you 
have tampered with my mail. 

[Beth, Chip and Syd rise indignant, 
hut Pat remains seated; Louise sees 
Pat is guilty, hut controls herself.] 

46 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Louise. [Laughs.] I am an awful fool, 
really, girls, an awful fool, I know now 
what the joke is, some of the seniors said 
they were playing on me. We have forgot- 
ten that we were going coasting ; you'd bet- 
ter hurry before it gets too dark ; will you 
get the sleds out! Pat and I will join you 
in a few moments; I must see to this joke 
first, it is so funny! Ha, ha, ha! [Closes 
door on girls, faces Pat and says in hurt 
tone.] How dare you? 

Pat. I couldn't stand it! 

Louise. You opened my first letter and 
read it. 

Pat. I only saw that he addressed you 
as class president and I couldn't bear it, 
Louise, really, I couldn't, I was jealous, 
I 

Louise. You didn't mail my letter. 

Pat. How do you know? 

Louise. He telephoned me. You read his 
second letter. 

Pat. Stop! You can't say that of me! 
I burned it, but I did not read it. On my 
word of honor. 

Louise. What is your word of honor? 

47 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

You cheat me, lie to roe, use me as a tool in 
your hands ; what right have you to inter- 
fere with my affairs, what right to burn 



Pat. I wanted to gain time 

Louise. For what? 

Pat. For him to consider if he really 
cared for you for your own self, or to see 
if it were only because you were class pres- 
ident 

Louise. Because! 

Pat. Because I love him, too, and I 
wanted a chance! 

Louise. You, you, Pat, you, oh ! [Pause 
of grief, gently.] I — I — told him over the 
'phone to-day that I would — marry him. 

Pat. We'll have to forget — I was wrong, 
Louise — I — the class 

Louise. It's not the class or the burn- 
ing of the letters I am thinking about, it is 
the future; we cannot go on living at col- 
lege like this. 

Pat. [Slowly.]"- No, I suppose not; I'll 
exchange my room with some one else — 
whom do vou want for a room-mate! 



48 



THE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

Louise. There wasn't any one in this 
world I wanted for a room-mate, except 
yon, Pat, and now there is no one. Through- 
out my college life yon have meant every- 
thing to me; yon have a little coterie of 
girls who worship yon, but I have no one ; 
I have not cared to make intimate friends 
because I was content with pleasant ac- 
quaintances and your friendship; I can't 
conceive of life at college without that 
friendship. 

Pat. But we can be friends again, 
Louise, forgive me 

Louise. No, it can never be the same; 
you have killed something in me, Pat; I 
wish you hadn't, Oh, I wish you hadn't, 
something which even Jack's love cannot 
dull the loss of; I'm sorry, Pat, but our 
friendship is dead. [Tears.'] 

Pat. Don't, don't. [Regret for every- 
thing she has done expressed in voice.] 

Louise. [Trying to control herself.] Col- 
lege doesn't mean anything to me now; I 
shall have to stay until Christmas time for 
the sake of appearances, but I am not com- 
ing back after the holidays. Then they 

49 



TEE CLASS PRESIDENT. 

will make you president. [Voice tearful.] 
There is a much bigger world outside of 
these college walls where I may learn to 
forget. [Off, girls are singing " Auld Lang 
Syne."] I shall have to — try — [Louise 
pauses, then as the song recalls the sweet 
past of their friendship, puts out her hand 
impulsively and says, as if her heart ivere 
breaking], Good bye, Pat. 

Picture. 
CUETAIN. 



50 



CAPTAIN JOE 



Captain Joe was written for Miss Lydston and first 
produced at The Anna Morgan Studios, Fine Arts 
Building, Chicago, March 12, 1908, with the following 
cast: 

CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Josephine Scott {"Captain Joe") 

Miss Josephine Lydston 

Mildred Linn, her room-mate. .Miss Gladys Chapeck 
Kate Winston, second team forward 

Miss Harriet Borgwardt 

Pat Dickenson, class president. .Miss Eleanor Potter 

Sue Carpenter, unathletic Miss Mabel Weil 

June Powell, the little freshman 

Miss Dorothy Sargent 

Miss Blanch Martin, 

Miss Greer, 

Miss Hazel Yondorf, Y Team Girls {from 5 to 7) 

Miss Hazel Habberton, 

Miss Dorothy Rissman. 

Place. 
A College in the East. 

Time. 
Spring. 

Plays forty-five minutes. 

(The class numerals must be changed to suit the year 
of the performance.) 



52 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

ACT I. 

Scene. Kate's study; door to 'corridor L. 
bedroom, Right back, window Right 
front. Banners, tea things, golf sticks, 
basket-ball, tennis racket, etc., to indi- 
cate a college room. Time, afternoon. 
Kate, wearing a basket-ball suit without 
numerals, squatted on cushion, study- 
ing; Sue and June in white shirt ivaist 
suits and white shoes; Sue in chair; 
June lying on the floor. Fan themselves 
and sip lemonade to show it is hot 
weather. 

June. [Reading from book.] "Turn ex 
suis unum sciscitatum Boman ad patrem 
mittit, quidnam se facere vellet, quando- 
quiedem ut." Scissors! now what does 
that mean? Don't these old Latin things 
just floor yon? [Picks up dictionary.] 
Come here, Die. ; I see I shall have to look 
up every other word as usual, and it's such 
a hore! Kate, what does "quandoquie- 
dem" mean? 



53 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

Kate. Heavens! don't ask me; yon can't 
expect a junior to remember her freshman 
Latin. 

June. Sue, don't you know? 

Sue. Unfortunately, I am a junior, too ; 
I did know once, but it seems very long 
ago. 

June. [Playfully.] When you were a 
little freshman just like me? Is there any- 
thing I can do for your Majesties to-day? 
Any errands to run? 

Kate. No, June, dear ; even though yon 
are only a little freshman we're awfully 
keen about you. We will limit class dis- 
tinction to your letting us pass out of a 
door first and always moving off the side- 
walk to give us room. 

June. I am very grateful. Oh, wasn't 
Livy a queer old duck ! 

Sue. Not half as queer as my labora- 
tory lobster, whose front paw, I'll have 
you know, is a " chela"; he has the fun- 
niest nervous system. Imagine a lobster 
having nerves ! and all his legs are called, 
scientifically speaking, — 

Kate. Please don't talk; it's getting 

54 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

too near final exams for joking. Whew, 
it's hot! I'm trying to learn my litera- 
ture. Let me see, Sir Thomas Browne was 
a hypochondriac, he loved his family and 
died of the cholic on his birthday. Oh, 
yes, and he wrote the "Urn-Burial," I al- 
most forgot that. 

Sue. Hush, I've got to learn my biol- 
ogy. 

June. It's no fun working in this 
weather; let's take our books out under 
the trees. 

Kate. Then you surely wouldn't get 
anything done. There are too many peo- 
ple on the Campus to distract the atten- 
tion. Please don't talk; I've got to learn 
as much of this as possible before I go 
down for basket-ball practice. 

June. After your first team has played! 
It's an honor to make the 18, but I'm sorry 
they didn't put you on the nine. What 
position do you play! 

Kate. Center forward. 

June. Oh, do you! Why, that's Jo- 
sephine Scott's on the first team. Oh, 
well, no one can play as well as your Cap- 

55 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

tain Joe. She is such a star that she'll 
surely make the Varsity after the final 
games are over. 

Sue. Girls, we must win to-morrow; 
think what it '11 mean ; we '11 hold the cham- 
pionship for basket-ball! 

June. [Pretending to iveep.] The soph- 
omores whipped us poor freshmen to 
smithereens, but you juniors had to put 
up a big fight against the seniors even if 
you did win in the end ; now your third 
game with the sophomores, isn't it excit- 
ing; how is your score? 

Kate. The first game was 3 to in our 
favor ; the second, 5 to 3 in theirs ; tomor- 
row 's game settles the championship. Oh, 
if I could only play on the team! 

June. You have never made your nu- 
merals. 

Kate. No, that is why I feel so badly; 
for the three years that I have been on 
the second team I never was given a 
chance to substitute and play in a match 
game; I won't have a chance to-morrow, 
either; Joe is flawless. 

June. It would be terrible if Captain 

56 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

Joe couldn't play; you'll surely get your 
numerals in senior year. 

Kate. Thanks for your frankness in 
telling me I can't play as well as Joe. 

June. Play better than your Captain! 
You don't believe that yourself. 

Kate. I can, but I'm not as popular as 
Joe, that's all. 

Sue. That has no weight in selecting a 
team, but Joe is undoubtedly the most 
popular girl in the class. 

June. She ought to be. 

Sue. [Laughs.] That'll do for you, 
June; everyone knows you have a crush 
on Joe. 

June. Well, I suppose I have; I admit 
I'm crazy about her, but I'm not the only 
one; there are dozens of sophomores be- 
sides us freshmen, and, what's more, I 
know a junior, that's you, Sue. 

Sue. Oh, no, we know each other too 
well to have our friendship a species of 
crush. Don't you let her hear the word; 
she hates it and squelches everyone who 
uses it or sends her flowers or — 



57 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

Kate. Nevertheless, her room is always 
filled with flowers ; Mildred says she is the 
one who gets the most pleasure from them, 
as she is ill so much. 

Sue. Mildred oughtn't to be in college. 

June. Mildred Linn, Joe's room-mate? 

Sue. Yes; she isn't a bit strong this 
year; her work is either wonderfully bril- 
liant or very bad ; even the professors have 
remarked it. 

June. Since I was made fire lieutenant, I 
have noticed that she is in bed a great 
deal; she hasn't attended a fire drill once. 

Kate. "When are you going to have an- 
other drill? How I hate them! The last 
one was two weeks ago. 

June. Pretty soon. 

Kate. Not when the games are on? You 
couldn't wake up the teams at 11 o'clock 
at night for that? 

June. Of course not. If you'll be good 
and not tell I'll warn you; this evening at 
6, when all the girls are in the hall dress- 
ing for dinner. 

Kate. Thanks ! That relieves my mind. 
I'll hang my towel over that chair nearest 

58 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

the door so that I can grab it heroically 
as I dash out. It's worth one's while to 
appear first in line and be sent to inspect 
the rooms and give the alarm. 

Sue. I should say so. I'm usually the 
last arrival and have the extreme pleasure 
of carrying a sand bucket to the place 
where the fire is supposed to be, but is not. 
Girls, Girls, we must work ! 

[Girls turn to their boohs again.] 

June. "Turn ex suis unum sciscitatum 
Eoman ad patrem mittit, quidnam" — 

Sue. Girls, have you missed any of 
your things lately? 

Kate. That was queer, wasn't it, the 
way Blanche's watch disappeared one day 
and was returned the next? The person 
who stole it evidently didn't have the cour- 
age to keep it. Do you suppose it was one 
of the chamber-maids? 

June. I suppose so. I don't think any 
of the girls would do such a thing. It is 
certainly a mystery. 

Kate. Whew, it's hot! [Opens window.] 
and I've got the window up as far as it 
will go. No, it must be a chamber-maid; 

59 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

but which one? [Laughing heard off ; Kate 
calls out of window.'] Joe, Joe Scott, how's 
the team to-day? 

Sue. [Rushes to ivindoiv.] Stop inhere 
on your way to your room; we want to 
hear particulars. [Puts arms about Kate 
and dances about room.] Our team must 
win. I am beginning to wish I could play, 
too; but we, the non-athletic, can only sit 
along the side lines and howl for victory. 
[Kate opens door. Heard off, "Hello, 
Joe; how's your team, Captain?'*] 

Joe. [Off.] I can't give you my per- 
sonal opinions ; wait until we 've played. 

Mildked. [Off.] Joe, aren't you com- 
ing in to see me? I want to tell you about 
your latest crush. 

Joe, [Off.] In a moment, Mildred; I'm 
going in to Kate's room. 

Mildred. [Off.] You ought to see the 
flowers the latest victim sent. 

Kate. Joe, hurry up — come along — tell 
us about the game ! 

Joe. [Off.] Coming, coming; all right, 
Charlotte, hope you do; yes, if you want 
to; really, how funny. [Enters.] Hello! 

60 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

[Carries basket-ball, wears suit with nu- 
merals 1909, face flushed ivith exercise.] 
Studying? Aren't you good? I hate to 
think of all the work waiting for me — you 
ought to see my philosophy notes — such a 
pile — but what is Eosseau e. t. c. compared 
to a final class game? Whew, I'm warm! 
Kate. Tell us about the game; how's 
the team to-day? 

Sue. Whom did you play for practice? 

Joe. The graduates challenged us for 
fun. It was a close game. We came out 
4 — 2. [Sits on table center.] 

Kate. Good, in our favor; how is our 
team work? 

Joe. Improving steadily; we'll put up 
a strong force to-morrow. We've got to 
win; if we don't, I never want to look at 
anyone in college again. I'd feel it was 
my own disgrace. But we are going to 
win if everyone will only think so, hard, 
we will. 

Sue. I'll hold my thumbs! 

Joe. Sue, make the class on the side 
lines sing, sing, yell; it encourages the 

61 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

team. Every time I hear my name cheered 
I'm inspired to play better. It stirs up 
one's blood. There were only a few spec- 
tators to-day, so we began without exhil- 
aration and played a slow first half, noth- 
ing to nothing; but when the graduates 
opened the second half with a field throw 
into the basket you should have seen the 
reds pick up. Our girls, switching into a 
fast game, passed the ball like lightning, 
giving us forwards several tries at the 
basket; but, the blue guards were fierce! 
They fought like heroes! Their center 
guard stuck to me like glue, I couldn't get 
away from her; her hands were every- 
where and her feet as well — I got onto her 
tricks and jumped to catch the ball above 
her head ; she jumped, too, using her arms 
like wings ; but I sent it to Flo, who put it 
in! We were then 2 — 2 and it was about 
3 minutes lacking time; we were getting 
desperate ; every girl played like mad. The 
ball was down at our goal most of the 
time, but their guards fought like demons. 
Mabel was down by the basket when she 
finally got the ball, but, instead of trying 
for it, tossed it sideways straight toward 

62 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

me; there were so many • bunching about 
the pole that I had stepped up field for 
protection. I caught the ball like that, took 
one swift look for aim, and threw! Just 
as the ball had swished through the net the 
whistles blew ! Time was up and we had 
won! 

Sue. Joe, you darling, you peach, you 
win every game! 

Kate. Your throws are so sure. 

Joe. Whew, I'm warm! Let me have 
some water. 

June. [Only too glad to serve.] Here 
is some, Miss Scott. 

Joe. Kate, you'd better be down on the 
field in time for your practice. It's about 
5 o'clock now. 

Kate. There is no use in my going to 
practice. 

Joe. You've got to. Suppose I should 
turn my ankle — or die from overstudy — 
or [Picks up beads from Kate's desk.] 
swallow your beads, or anything serious 
like that, you'd have to be ready to take 
my place. 

Kate. Well, nothing like that is going 
to happen. 

63 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

Joe. Oh, come, now, you're discouraged 
because you have never had a chance to 
get your numerals. [Indicates her own.] 
I'm as sorry as you are, Kate, but what 
else could we do ! When we chose the nine, 
center forward was my position. 

Kate. I don't think yet that it was 
quite fair for you not to give me one of 
the other forwards. I can throw into the 
basket twice to Flo's once. 

Joe. In a free throw, perhaps; but not 
otherwise. 

Kate. I suppose you do know best ; only 
I did want my numerals. [Enter Pat.] 

Pat. Is Captain Joe there? 

Joe. Here I am; hello! how's our class 
president? [Takes her hand.] Your game 
was good to-day; don't forget the pass to 
Schmidt. 

Pat. No, I'll remember; I've come to 
ask you an awful big favor. I'm almost 
scared to tell you. 

Joe. Go on. 

Pat. A bunch of the girls are invited 
into town to-night for dinner and theater 
and insist upon my going. I said I couldn't 

64 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

without your permission. Of course, I can't 
go to the theater, as you have ordered us 
to be in bed at 9, but I thought you might 
let me go for the dinner. Will you? 

Joe. [Slowly.] I'm sorry, Pat, no. 
Even if you went with the best intentions 
not to eat more than is good for a team 
girl, I am afraid — well, we're all human — 
it seems mean to say "no," but we 're play- 
ing for the class. 

Pat. No one knows that better than I; 
you are right; I should have had more 
sense than to ask you. Good-bye! 

Kate. Wait for me, I'm going your 
way; girls, excuse me. [Salutes play- 
fully.] Captain's orders. Make your- 
selves at home in my room; see you later. 

June. At the fire drill. 

Kate. Put my towel out, will you. 
[Exeunt Kate and Pat.] 

Sue. Girls, I've got to study and drag 

myself away from this charming company. 

[Picks up books.] Come on, lobster; I 

wish you didn't have any insides. [Exit.] 

[June gets towel out of bedroom and 

puts it on chair nearest door B. B.] 

65 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

Joe. Have yon warned the girls that 
there is to be a fire drill, Miss Powell! 

June. Perhaps I shouldn't have — 6 
o 'clock. 

Joe. We're only too glad to be pre- 
pared. The unexpected alarm makes my 
room-mate very nervous. Mildred isn't 
very well and I have to be careful of her. 

June. You are very fond of her, aren't 
you? 

Joe. We grew up together. 

June. She must be happy to have you 
for a room-mate. 

Joe. [Looks at her suspiciously,] Why? 

June. Because, because, well, you are 
the most popular girl in college, and you 
are so good looking and adorable and — 

Joe. [Suddenly.] Did you send me 
some lilies-of-the-valley yesterday? 

June. I heard you say you liked them. 

Joe. I've been watching you these last 
few days and thought I noticed the first 
symptoms ; now be sensible and get over it. 

June. I don't think I can. 

Joe. Oh, dear, what shall I do with you 

66 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

fresjhmen? I try to cure you by ignoring 
you and not thanking you for your flow- 
ers; but it doesn't seem to have any effect. 
Don't sit staring at me in lectures. If you 
knew me a little better you would see what 
a cross, ugly, ill-tempered girl I am — 

June. No, you're not; we know better 
than that. 

Joe. Can't you see you are only mak- 
ing yourself ridiculous 1 

June. But I do sincerely worship you. 
I've lain awake trying to plan a way to 
make you notice me; I've — 

Joe. [Kindly.] Now, listen; call me by 
my first name, June, and here is my hand 
upon our friendship; mind, I said friend- 
ship; don't you dare let any one call it 
crush ; but until you reform I consider you 
a goose ; now go and think it over. 

June. It's very good of you — 

Joe. Eun along — I won't have anything 
more to do with you until you have learned 
to be sensible. [Exit June. Joe goes to 
window.] Heavens! it's warm. [Calls 
out of ivindoiv.] Hello, Bess. Hot! I 
should say so! You've bought your hat 

67 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

for garden party? Yes, pink is very be- 
coming to yon. [Takes glass of water, 
Enter Mildred.] 

Mildked. Aren't yon coming home, Joe? 

Joe. Well, Mildred, did yon think I had 
deserted yon. How have yon been! 

Mildred. My head feels qneer again. 
I've been lying down. 

Joe. I thonght yon said yon were going 
to the tea. 

Mildred. It was too warm. 

Joe. Have yon a fever? Oh, my dear, 
where did yon get the pin? 

Mildred. [Puts hands nervously to 
neck.] Pin? Oh, I don't know, I forgot I 
— I— 

Joe. [Quietly unclasps it and puts it in 
her waist.] Where did yon get it, dear? 

Mildred. [In despair.] I don't know, 
Joe, I — 

Joe. It looks like Helen's. 

Mildred. I was in her room — just a mo- 
ment, Joe, to find a note-book; I didn't 
want to — Joe — 

Joe. Very well, dear, I'll take care of it 

68 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

and return it to-night when everyone is ex- 
cited over the fire drill. There is to be one 
at 6. 

Mildked. I am so glad you told me; I 
see Kate has her towel ready. It's so fool- 
ish to have to take one ; if there should be 
a real fire every girl would dash out with 
a dry towel from force of habit and abso- 
lutely forget to wet it, as protection against 
smoke. 

Joe. [At telephone.] Elmhurst Sta- 
tion, Central, please, University Club 
House. Is Mr. Harold Webster there! 
Yes. [To Mildred.] A walk on the campus 
to-night will do you good. 

Mildeed. I think I'll go to bed, Joe, and 
have my dinner sent up to me. 

Joe. [At telephone.] Harold? The 
game is at 4 :30 to-morrow. Are you com- 
ing! Of course, we'll win. How's your 
crew! We're coming down on Saturday 
to cheer them on. 

[Mildred steals beads lying on Kate's 
desk; Kate enters in time to see 
her, but Mildred does not know it; 
Kate is aghast, sags nothing.] 

69 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

Joe. [At telephone.] If you stay to 
dinner after the game to-morrow you'll 
have to go home right after, because I 
have a quiz the next day. Mildred, Har- 
old wants to know what a quiz is compared 
to him? 

Mildked. Tell him, it's the difference 
between a High Credit and a Flunk. 

Joe. She says the difference between a 
High Credit and a Flunk. [To Mildred.] 
^What's worth more? 

Mildred. The Flunk. 

Joe. [At telephone.] The Flunk. Yes, 
I'll meet you after the game, under the 
Japanese cherry tree. Thanks for the 
roses. Good-bye! Come on, Mildred, I've 
got to dress for dinner. 

Mildred. And I'm going to bed. Good- 
bye, Kate. [Exit.] 

Joe. Good-bye, Kate ! You see, I made 
myself very comfortable in your room, as 
usual. [Exeunt. It grows dark.] 

Kate. [Alone.] She took my beads; 
what shall I do? I can't accuse her; so 
she is the girl who has been taking things ! 
I never could have believed that of Mil- 

70 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

Dam I wonder if Joe knows; she must. 
Oh, perhaps it's Joe who returns them. 
[Pause.] I almost wish Joe couldn't play 
to-morrow; I want my numerals so, so 
badly; hut no such luck for me. [Fire 
hell heard.] Oh, slivers garillamajigs ! I 
forgot that fire drill; where 's my towel? 
It's getting so dark. Towel, towel, where 
are you? 

[Exit. Leaves her door open. Enter 

Joe stealthily to return the heads 

that Mildred had taken. Noise of 

drill off. Just as she is leaning 

over Kate's desk, enter June and 

all girls except Mildred.] 

June. [Authoritatively.] The fire is in 

here. [Switches on light; Joe discovered; 

appears guilty; picture.] 

CURTAIN. 



71 



CAPTAIN JOE. 



ACT II. 



: Scene. The next afternoon. Study be- 
longing to Joe and Mildred. Door to 
corridor L. B. Window looking out upon 
athletic field L. F. Door to Joe's room 
R.; to Mildred's R. F. Room filled with 
flowers. Banners, etc., to indicate col- 
lege 'room. 

Joe. [In basket-ball suit stands, center 
of room, reading note.] "The team must 
neither lose, nor win a game ingloriously ; 
the class regrets that it must ask the Cap- 
tain for her resignation. By order of the 
President.' ' [Crumples paper in hand.] 
There is nothing I can do, nothing I can 
say, nothing. To be put off the team ! 
[Calls R. F.] Mildred! [Looks into Mil- 
dred's room.] Mildred, not there; poor 
child, she is afraid and I can't speak. 
[Wanders about room as if not knowing 
ivhat to do with herself; picks up bunch of 
floivers.] No fresh flowers to-day for Cap- 
tain Joe — not even from the freshmen — 
"The team must neither lose nor win a 



72 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

game ingloriously. ' ' [Knock at door.] 
Come. [Enter Pat and Sue.] 

Pat. We came to tell you tliat we are 
sorry we had to do — as we have done — we 
debated the question a long while. 

Joe. From your point of view you are 
justified. I did not know what you would 
do ; your note came after I had put on my 
suit. 

Sue. Joe, have you nothing to say! 

Joe. I have said before that I was in- 
nocent. 

Sue. But explain. I can't doubt you 
even if circumstantial evidence seems to 
prove that you are — please explain. 

Joe. I cannot; you must take my word. 

Pat. But if there is any way of clear- 
ing yourself, speak; think what it will 
mean to the class! The team is panic- 
stricken, it needs your strength; for the 
sake of the class — 

Joe. I can't; you have lived with me 
three years, and have never known me to 
be dishonest in word or deed ; I have been 
accused sometimes of being too frank; 
you, who know that my record is clean; 

73 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

you, who have been ray friends, must 
trust me and believe me. 

Pat. But tell us why you were in Kate 's 
room last night; you give no reason; at 
the time you should have been at the fire 
idrill; you knew there was to be one; you 
see everything looks — so — 

Joe. I admitted last night that my po- 
sition was strange. I had a reason for 
going into Kate's room, but I refuse to 
tell it. You must have faith in my word. 
You know I took nothing. 

Sue. But Kate said that her beads were 
on the table and not on her writing tablet, 
where she had left them, which seems to 
prove that you touched them, and — oh, 
Joe, I'm sorry. 

Pat. Then there is nothing we can do; 
the Athletic Association is not satisfied to 
take you at your word. It requires evi- 
dence. I had hoped that you could ex- 
plain and play after all. The game be- 
gins in fifteen minutes and we are going 
to lose. Joe ! Joe ! the team is in a panic. 
Why did you do it? 

Joe. Is my team panic-stricken? Let 

74 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

tliem come to me here before they go; I 
must give Kate Winston some pointers; 
you've put me off the team; you've taken 
away my authority ; but the girls must win 
and I am the only one to encourage them ; 
please let them come, please, please; they 
must, must win. 

Pat. [Pause of doubt.] Very well; it 
is our last hope. 

[Exeunt Pat and Sue; in going out 
bump against June coining in — this 
to create a laugh.] 

June. I beg your pardon. Joe! Joe! 
they've put you off the team; what shall 
we do? It breaks my heart to hear the 
whole college talking about you and say- 
ing— 

Joe. That I am a thief. Say it, say it, 
believe it like the rest, even though I swear 
it isn't true. 

June. Where is Mildred? 

Joe. Ah, even you believe me guilty; 
Mildred? I don't know. She didn't get up 
until noon and didn't hear until then of 
my — disgrace; she hasn't come back since 
then. She hasn't been feeling well. 

75 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

June. I saw Mr. Webster crossing the 
campus on the way to the athletic field. 

Joe. [Looks out of window.] Harold 
at the game and I not there! Where is 
he? They are crowding along the side 
lines. What time is it? 

June. [Looks at ivatch.] Four-twenty. 
Joe. Ten minutes before the game; go 
explain to Harold what has happened ; tell 
him it isn't true, what they are saying 
about me; even if you don't believe me 
yourself, tell him. 

[Team girls troop in, all in basket- 
ball suits with numerals, Pat, Kate 
— Kate has on numerals. Exit June 
through crowd.] 
Pat. I have brought the team. 

Joe. Girls, they have taken away from 
me the right to command you; they have 
disgraced me, your Captain, before the 
college; there was nothing else for them 
to do. I cannot explain, although I swear 
before all the world that I am innocent; 
you have looked to me for your orders; 
I have coached you, watched you, encour- 
aged you ; I have taught you a clean, hon- 

76 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

orable game; in your hearts yon must 
know that I have been honorable; don't 
add to my disgrace that of defeat — girls, 
play, play to win; play for the class and 
my honor. It is at stake; it's up to you 
to make good. Kate Winston, the numer- 
als you are wearing for the first time as 
you enter your first match game, are of 
the color of our class; reverence them; 
they are the symbols of class honor, which 
you are called upon to protect. If you 
lose, lose nobly; if you win, be charitable. 
You are playing in my place ; play boldly ; 
the girls may look to you for encourage- 
ment from force of habit; we cannot ex- 
pect you to give it to them, but let them 
see your energy concentrated; be brave, 
play for all that's in it, and grin, grin — 
don't lose your nerve — grin, grin! If 1910 
makes a foul, giving you a free throw for 
the basket — take all the time you want for 
your aim and don't lose your nerve. If 
she misses, Wainwright, catch the ball and 
don't forget the quick pass to Flanders. 
Nelson, don't run with the ball; you 
fouled twice yesterday; Schmidt, jump if 
your opponent is too tall; guards, don't 

77 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

walk with tlie ball ; fight, fight like demons. 
Now you've got to play for all there's in 
it; you've got to play to win; you can, 
you will, you must; you're playing for the 
championship. Your class president is 
with you, you are playing for her, for me, 
for the class; play, girls, play; Pat, take 
them on to victory, to victory! [Exeunt 
girls, Joe rushes to the window — calls out.] 
Kate Winston, play for the numerals, 1909, 
the red, our class ! [Buries her face in her 
hands; cheering is heard; holes out of win- 
dow again, quickly.] They are taking the 
field. " 

June. [Enters.] Joe, Mr. "Webster be- 
lieves you ; he wants to speak to you now, 
won't you come down to the field? 

Joe. No, no, I could not bear to have the 
whole college staring at me. 

June. But he can't come up here with- 
out a chaperon. 

Joe. I can't go; are you sure he trusts 
me? 

June. I couldn't talk to him long be- 
cause he has some college men with him, 
but he took me aside to give me this for 

78 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

you; lie asked that if you could not come 
now, you should meet him after the game 
under the Japanese cherry tree. [Gives 
her small package.] 

Joe. [Opens it, screams with delight.] 
Harold! June, it's his fraternity pin! 

June. Do you care enough to wear it f 

Joe. [Pins it on waist, triumphantly.] 
€are! I didn't know he cared so much! 
Ah, he helieves me! [Shouts from field 
heard. Joe looks out of window; expresses 
disappointment.] 0, a goal for the sopho- 
mores ! They begin again, catch it, Nelson, 
0, 0, butter-fingers, run up for it Schmidt, 
good, good, now pass, that's it, — [Sus- 
pense.] it's down at our goal, try for the 
goal, try for the basket, Kate, put it in, 
[Anger.] you fool, you fool; the sopho- 
mores are passing it back, at their goal 
again, guards fight; Pat fight [Whistle 
heard.] What! Foul on Nelson for walk- 
ing with the ball. 

June. The sophomores have a free 
throw for the basket, their center forward 
is slow but sure ; do you think she will put 
it in? Every one is waiting breathlessly. 

79 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

I'll cross my fingers to make her miss; she 
is aiming, there, she has raised her arms — 

Joe. [In despair.] In! 3 — 0, we're 
losing! Pat, Pat, make them win. Run, 
Schmidt, run, pass to Flanders; that's it, 
splendid, bully. [Whistle heard.] Good! 
foul on the sophomores ; now Kate gets a 
free try for the basket; June, I can't look, 
[Tunis away from window.] is she taking 
steady aim? 

June. She seems nervous, but is wait- 
ing to steady her hand — 

Joe. [Holds thumbs, eyes closed, mut- 
ters as if thought is concentrated upon 
winning.] Put it in Kate, put it in, put 
it in. 

June. She's taking aim. 

Joe. Put it in, Kate, put it in. 

June. [Scream of despair.] She missed 
it! The sophomores have the ball down 
the field again. They're playing like mad; 
1909 is discouraged; 0, if you were only 
on the team. 

Joe. We're lost, we're lost, what time 
is it! The first half must be over soon. 
What are they doing now? I haven't the 
courage to look. 

80 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

'Juke. It's down at your goal again. 

Joe. [Rushes to windotv.] Is it? Bully, 
Flanders, bully, catch it! Kate, that's it — 
O, 0, — no, no — don't do that 0, 0, — 
guards, guards, [Despair.] 0, — 0, — 0, 
June, — Heavings, 5 — nothing, we 're lost ! 
[Whistle heard.] Time! the end of the 
first half. 

[Enter team girls, panic-stricken.] 

Pat. Joe, we're losing the game, we're 
losing the game ; help us ! 

Joe. [In anger.] What do you mean 
by coming to me in such a panic f Go back 
to your trainers! This is the time the 
sophomores are using for rest, while you, 
you are wasting your strength, losing your 
nerve. [Stamps her foot.] Go back to 
your trainers, every one of you ! 

Kate. [In tears.] Joe, Joe, I tried my 
best, I just couldn't get the ball in. 

Joe. Go back to your trainers, I tell 
you ! Do you want to add ridicule to your 
defeat! Make us the laughing stock of the 
college? When you look like whipped 
dogs I despise you! The game isn't over 



81 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

yet. Go back to your trainers and when 
you play, play like — the deuce ! 

Pat. Joe, if you could play we'd win 
yet! 

June. She can play, she can play, take 
her with you! It was I who stole Kate's 
beads and Joe went to put them back. 

Pat. You — 

June. Yes, yes, I confess it ; this is no 
time to question me; take her with you, 
she must play ! 

[Girls, screaming with delight, rush 
Joe oat — whistle heard.] 

June. [Alone.] Now they'll win, why 
didn't I think of doing that before? 
Goodie, they are all cheering her. 0, she 
is a darling! and she looks so stunning on 
the field! 

Mildred. [Enters, starts at seeing 
June.] You here? I thought every one 
was at the game. 

June. Where have you been? Nobody 
could find you when Joe asked. 

Mildred. [Quickly.] Did Joe say any- 
thing against me? 

82 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

June. Against you, Miss Linn? Joe 
would never dream of such a thing. [At 
window.] The team is playing splendidly. 
Joe is everywhere at once. Are you feel- 
ing better f 

Mildred. [Relieved.] I was this morn- 
ing, but when I heard about what hap- 
pened in Kate 's room last night I — I 

June. It cut us all up. 

Mildred. It has made me miserable. 
[Enter Kate.] 

Kate. Mildred, I saw you come in and 
want to talk to you. 

June. Then I'll vanish. 

Kate. You don't mind, June? 

June. 0, no. [Exit.] 

Mildred. [Nervously.] You got your 
numerals, after all. 

Kate. [Nervously.] Do you know how 
it happened they put Joe back on the team 1 

Mildred. No. 

Kate. June Powell said she stole my 
beads and Joe was returning them without 
my knowledge, when we found her there 
in the dark. 

83 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

Mildred. [Nervously.] June Powell, 
the little freshman? Why — 

Kate. You see, even if Joe is exoner- 
ated by June's lie, June is — 

Mildred. Lie? How do you know it is 
a lie? 

Kate. Because, yesterday afternoon, 
when I found you and Joe in my room, I 
saw you take the beads off the desk — 

Mildred. You saw — 

Kate. I didn't know what to say — I — 

Miildred. I didn't meant to — I didn't 
mean to — 

[Cheers heard.] 

Kate. [Rushes to ivindoiv.] We made 
a goal. 

Mildred. But if you saw me, why didn't 
you tell, why did you let suspicion rest on 
Joe? 

Kate. Why did you? 

Mildred. I'm too weak to confess; I 
want to, but I can't, but it was your duty 
to tell for the sake of the class — ah, I see, 
you wanted your numerals, your chance 

84 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

to play and Joe being put off — your num- 
erals dishonorably won! ! 

Kate. How about your dishonor? 

Mildred. Dishonor? I'm sick, I don't 
want the things; Joe always puts them 
back. 

Kate. Then it will be so much the easier 
for you to tell. [Whistle heard.'] A foul 
on the sophomores ; Joe has a free throw ; 
hold your thumbs; in! ! 0, Joe, you're 
bully! We must win. [Turns from win- 
dow. 1 It was I who made us lose the first 
half. You must explain that you are ill. 

Mildred. I can't, I can't — 

Kate. You must, we can't let suspicion 
rest on June Powell. 

Mildred. I haven't the courage — 

Kate. It is the only thing for you to 
do ; if you don't, I shall tell on you. [Looks 
out of window. 1 Joe, Joe, put it in, put it 
in, shoot it, pass, pass, try for the basket, 
Joe — whee! ! ! [Cheers heard.} 

Mildred. "What's the score! 

Kate. 5 — 5 — we're even; our team is 
mad; I never saw them so desperate. 

85 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

[Suspense.] — — Nelson, don't walk 
with the ball. [Whistle heard.] Slivers I 
foul on our team ! If that sophomore cen- 
ter forward makes a basket, we're lost, it's 
about two minutes lacking time ; cross your 
fingers, I'll put out my tongue! 

Mildred. [Fingers crossed.] Miss it, 
miss it, miss it! 

Kate. [In glee.] Missed!! Now, girls, 
play; Schmidt, run; that's it, good, 0, too 
bad, there it comes again. Bravo, Joe, she 
leaped into the air for that — look, look — 
[Screams heard.] She threw it in! [Whis- 
tles.] Time, we've won, we've, won. 
[Cheers heard. Kate embraces Mildred in 
frenzy.] 

Enter everybody, screaming, "We've 
won/' "ive hold the championship," 
"three cheers for Captain Joe." 

Joe. [When noise subsides.] Girls, the 
championship is ours, but our victory can- 
not be complete until we have vindicated 
a member of the Freshman class, who has 
taken upon herself the blame of a member 
of our own ; I am speaking of June Powell* 
is she here ? 

June. Here I am. 

86 






CAPTAIN JOE. 

Joe. [Gives her her hand.] Thank you 
for your loyalty to your Juniors ; I would 
not have accepted your sacrifice had I not 
known in my heart that I was fit to lead 
the team gloriously to victory or defeat; 
it was our only salvation for the moment ; 
but now we must clear you. Girls, June 
Powell took the blame upon herself in or- 
der to save our team. She is innocent, 
will no one speak? 

[Silence.] 

Kate. Joe, let me say — [Aside to Mil- 
dred.] Tell— 

Mildred. Joe, I — I — didn't want to do 
it; I never want to take anything, but I 
can't help myself and, girls, she always 
puts them back, always. I didn't want 
Kate's beads, but they lay on her table and 
glittered and — and — Joe took them away 
from me when she found I had them and 
to save me — went to put them back — but I 
didnt mean to — I didn't — 

Joe. [Puts arm about her, protectingly.] 
There, there, the girls understand. Don't 
you, girls? [Motions to them, threaten- 
ingly.] Say that you do. 

87 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

Girls. That's all right, it's all ex- 
plained, Mildred. 

Sue. [Goes to Mildred] [We all know 
you haven't been feeling well. [Takes her 
aside.] 

Girls. Three cheers for Joe. 

Kate. [Takes off her numerals, goes to 
Joe.] "Will you take them? 

Joe. Take your numerals? When you 
have played in a match game? The num- 
erals you have worked so hard for? 

Kate. I don't deserve them; I made 
the team lose the first half. 

Ctirls. You couldn't help that, Kate; 
don't give up your numerals. 

Joe. My dear girl, we don't want them; 
you have a perfect right to them ; they are 
yours. 

Kate. [Shakes her head sloivly.] Please 
take them. 

Joe. [Hands behind back.] No. 

Kate. I lost. 

Joe. No. 

Kate. Take them, I don't want tkem, 
they barn me! 

88 



CAPTAIN JOE. 

[Pause, Joe takes them slowly, wiih- 
out speaking.] 

Man. [Voice heard through ivindow.\ 
Is Captain Joe there? 

June. Yes. 

Man. Tell her, will you please, that I 
am waiting under the Japanese cherry 
tree? 

June. [Laughs.] Joe, Harold Webster 
is waiting. 

Man. Tell her, her game was bully. 
Joe. [Laughs, puts hand impulsively to 
pin in her waist. Sue notices gesture.] 
I'm coming. 

Sue. Joe, a f rat pin ! Girls, girls, three 
cheers for Captain Joe! 

[Girls grab flowers from vases and 
pelt Joe with them, as she is raised 
up to sit on the crossed hands of 
two of the team girls. Joe laughs 
merrily, as she is cheered.] 

CURTAIN. 



89 



BETTY'S DEGREE 



>• The Seniors. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Betty Clifton, 

Dolly Hovvitt, her best friend 

Janet Mackay, 

Agnes Benton, 

Grace W eat herb y, 

Blanch Smith., 

Edna Lost, 

Mary Foster, 

A Maid, 

Persons Mentioned. 
Tom Brummel. 
Dick Austen. 
Harry Young. 

Dr. Sike, Professor of Psychology. 
Dr. Richards, Professor of Economics. 

Place. 
A College in the East. 

Time. 
Spring. 

Plays forty-Hue minutes. 



92 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 



ACT I. 



Scene. The student's sitting room; book- 
cases, couch, comfortable chairs, table 
with student's lamp, papers, telephone, 
etc, Tiuo big signs hang bach center, — 
"Silence", and "Beware of final Ex- 
ams". Evening in Spring, a week be- 
fore Commencement. Janet Mackay 
writing at table. Agnes Benton reading 
in easy chair, Grace Weatherby hud- 
dled in corner of couch, grinding. Blanch 
Smith scanning books in book-cases. Af- 
ter curtain has risen there is a long 
silence to be sustained by pantomime to 
convey atmosphere of serious study. 

Blanch. Has anybody seen the library 
copy of Henry James's Psychology? 

Janet and Grace. Ssh!! 

Agnes. You won't find that book in 
there to-night, thirteen hours before the 
big psych final. I am going to be decapi- 
tated to-morrow in that exam ; when I have 
flunked you can bury me beneath the sod 
and for an epitaph write, "Here lieth the 

93 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

bones of Agnes Benton, who, slaughtered 
on the field of an intellectual battle, suf- 
fereth torment; would that she had made 
studying a habit rather than an excep- 
tion". 

Grace. Are you reading the chapter on 
"Habit"? 

Agnes. Yes, but I don't know anything 
about it. I am very unhappy ; wish I had 
never come to college. If I were only at 
home now on the ranch I could be — 

Janet. Hush up! Don't be garrulous; 
remember the exams. I am trying to learn 
how many u me's" I have. 

Blanch. [Sitting at table opposite to 
Janet.] That is just the chapter on "Self" 
I want to look up. What is the "I"? 

Janet. The "I", the capital letter I, is 
you. 

Blanch. The "I" is me. 

Janet. No, the "I" isn't "me". 

Blanch. Of course it isn't you, it's me. 

Agnes. Bosh, what nonsense! It's fin- 
als this and finals that, until I don't know 
"where I'm at". 



94 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Janet. What I said was absolutely cor- 
rect. Ask the grind. Grace! 

Grace [Looks up confused.] Did you 
speak to me? 

Janet. Explain the "Self" to Blanch. 

Grace. It 's here at the beginning of the 
chapter. [Reads.] "Whatever I may be 
thinking of, I am always at the same time 
more or less aware of myself, of my per- 
sonal existence. At the same time it is I 
who am aware". 

Janet. That is what I said. The "I" 
is the knower and the "Me" the known. 

Blanch. "I" knows "me". 

Agnes. You knows you. 

Janet. We knows us. 

Blanch. I wish I had begun to study at 
the beginning of the course. 

Agnes. And made it a habit. 

Janet. Don't interrupt with your hab- 
its; we are discussing "self". Go on, 
Grace. 

Grace. "Subdivision of 'meV: ma- 
terial me, social and spiritual me". Me 
material — 



95 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Blanch. Wait, you are going too fast; 
what did you say? 

Janet. Hush up! 

Blanch. Honestly, Janet, I must pass 
that exam to-morrow. I don't need a high 
mark but at the close of senior year one 
must be able to clutch a degree. 

Agnes. I feel as if I ought to pass well 
to-morrow, if the mere presence of Dr. 
Sike didn't petrify me. 

Janet. He is dreadfully severe. 

Blanch. [Looking over Grace's shoul- 
der.] Let me see it written. 
[Pause of intense study — Enter Dolly 
Hoivitt.] 

Dolly. [Worried.] Have you seen 
Betty? 

Agnes. No, why, what is the matter? 

Dolly. She can't get her degree. 

Girls. What!!! 

Dolly. I found it out to-day, she 
doesn't know it yet. I don't know how to 
tell her. 

Janet. Betty Clifton lose her degree 
when she has scored so many high marks t 

96 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

She is too brilliant. There isn't a girl in 
college that can study so little and cram 
so well, 

Dolly. That is her ruin. Betty has cut 
lectures to go to town on flirtations just 
several times too often. She took luncheon 
with Tom to-day and so asked me to have 
Dr. Sike sign her course-book; he refused. 

Blanch. Eefused to sign because she 
cuts so much! O, dear, I hope he doesn't 
flunk me to-morrow. 

Janet. [To Dolly.] What did you do! 

Dolly. Plead and almost wept, but 
gained nothing. He agreed with me when 
I said that Betty always made high marks 
on her quiz papers, but added that he 
could have no patience with a girl who 
crammed. He seemed to take her frequent 
cutting almost as a personal offence. 

Geace. Don't you see Dr. Sike's view- 
point? That Bettey may remember for a 
day what she has crammed the night be- 
fore, but that it is a psychological impos- 
sibility for her to have assimilated all that 
knowledge and made it her own as we have 
who have kept our thoughts steadily on 
the subject. 

97 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Janet. Though you are a grind, Grace, 
Betty has sometimes made higher marks 
than you. How do you explain that? 

Grace. Easily; she crams only the es- 
sential facts and so in writing a paper is 
not delayed as we are in describing de- 
tails. While we are wondering just what 
details we should use, Betty is dashing off 
main facts in her inimitably charming and 
brilliant style. 

Agnes. If she could make a high credit 
in that exam to-morrow don't you suppose 
Dr. Sike would relent? 

Dolly. That is one hope. I have just 
had a talk with Professor Bichards who 
came to call on Betty because he had heard 
about it and wanted to encourage her. 

Agnes. Dear adorable Professor Bich- 
ards in this Hall and I not know it? Why 
didn't you tell me? I'd give anything to 
have him call on me. 

Blanch. Mr. Bichards is the best look- 
ing man in the faculty. 

Agnes. He is the best looking man I 
have ever met. It's a shame to put a man 
like that in a girl's college and then for- 

93 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

"bid social engagements. I never saw such 
bine eyes. 

Dolly. Aren't they glorious? Big, 
deep blue and brilliant, as if they were al- 
ways smiling, no matter how hard he is 
trying to appear grave. 

Agnes. His grave manner irritates me 
for I always feel as if he were really anx- 
ious to have a good time but didn't dare. 

Gkace. He must pretend the dignity of 
a professor to keep his position. 

Janet. My brother who knew him at 
Yale said he was quite the hero in his 
class ; jumped into the water to save some 
girl who fell in; I don't remember the cir- 
cumstances, but it was something roman- 
tic and heroic. 

Agnes. 0, Janet, do find out the details ; 
it must have been very heroic. He looks 
so capable of something great and big. I 
wish we had a pond here. I'd try the 
stunt myself. Honestly girls, I think I am 
in love with him. 

Dolly. I am wild about his course. 

Agnes. About him, you mean. Who 
could resist those clean cut features! 

99 



BETTY'S DEGREE, 

Grace. Why did he take the trouble to 
call on Betty? 

Dolly. Wasn't it queer? For it doesn't 
in the least concern him. He said he had 
heard me discussing the matter with some 
of the girls this afternoon, and wanted to 
tell Betty to work for a high mark in the 
Sike exam. 

Grace. Did he think that would make 
Dr. Sike sign the course-book? 

Dolly. He said there was a bare possi- 
bility of it. 

Agnes. There isn't another professor 
who would take such interest in a matter 
that had nothing to do with his course. 

Blanch. Don't forget it was for Betty. 

Agnes. Do you think he is crazy about 
her? 

Blanch. I am only trying to guess. 
Didn't he complain that she had cut his 
course too often? 

Dolly. Evidently not; he said he had 
no cause personally to complain about her 
attendance. I don't see how I am going 
to find the courage to break the news to 
Betty. 

100 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

[Enter maid with card.] 

Maid. Miss Clifton! Gentleman to see 
her. 

Dolly. I'll take it. Mr. Richard Aus- 
ten [To girls.] to see Betty. [To maid.] 
Tell him to wait. [Exit maid.] 

Now what do yon think of that? The 
night before a final exam a week before 
commencement, Betty Clifton has a caller. 
If she were here she would entertain him 
until he was made to leave the building 
when the doors are locked. She would 
never dream of refusing him; worse yet, 
she is now in town with Tom Brummel, 
beau number one. 

Janet. If Betty loses her degree, it is 
the fault of the three men who haunt her. 
She'd get H. C. in a course on coquetry. 

Dolly. [Sinks worried into chair.] 
I ought to be working this very minute 
myself, but I cannot settle down when 
Betty keeps me in such hot water. One day 
she seems to care most for Tom, the next 
for Dick and after that for Harry. When 
I tell her she is trifling with their affec- 
tions she only laughs and says they under- 

101 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

stand one another perfectly, so perfectly 
that they cannot be serious. 

Agnes. Then the men will not admit 
their serions intentions? Men don't usu- 
nally rush a girl with such extravagance 
unless they entertain some hope of a seri- 
ous chance in the future. 

Dolly. That is what worries me. Betty 
is so young and irresponsible she doesn't 
foresee how unpleasant it is going to be 
when she begins to turn them down. She 
cannot marry all of them. I am going to 
give [Looks at card] Dick Austen a bit of 
warning. 

Janet. How are you going to say it? 

Dolly. It is not a pleasant task but I 
feel it my moral duty. [Squares her 
shoulders as if to gain courage and starts 
out.] It takes courage. [Exit.] 

Agnes. Dolly is making a mistake by 
meddling in Betty's love affairs. Why not 
let Betty flirt if she enjoys it? 

Blanch. It isn't fair to keep them all 
guessing and each fellow believing he is 
the favored one. She expected to be back 
at college this afternoon after she had had 

102 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

luncheon with Tom, but at five o 'clock she 
telephoned for a chaperone. Not back yet. 

Grace. Perhaps she has accepted Tom. 

Agnes. How thrilling if she has. Then 
we are in on some of the automobile trips. 
He has loads of money and everything 
from phonographs to yachts. 

Janet. Tom Brummel is too full of 
sport for Betty. Betty has enough of that 
for two. She needs restraint. 

Blanch. Well, Dick Austen could give 
her that. He is very firm and always gets 
his own way. He is the only person I have 
ever seen Betty mind. When Dick says 
the moon is the sun Betty, usually so con- 
trary, agrees without a murmur and is just 
as likely as not to walk out at night with 
a parasol open to keep her face from 
freckling. 

Agnes. There seems to be a kind of 
magnetism even in his silence. I sat next 
to him at a dinner once and wondered why 
I wasn't bored. 

Blanch. By the time the salad was 
served I wager you had confessed all your 
secrets. 

103 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Agnes. I had. He just leans back, looks 
at you and asks you a question, the kind 
that always winds a girl up. When I had 
exhausted one subject, he started rne on 
another until at length I found myself 
tongue deep in explanations. 

Janet. They say he promises quite a 
career as a lawyer. 

Gtkace. Do you think Betty would marry 
him? 

Janet. I hope not; he has too quieting 
an effect on her; she seems to lose all her 
sparkle when with him. 

Blanch. Tom is too frivolous and Dick 
too serious, but Harry is dear. He adores 
Betty. 

Janet. An overgrown boy; boyishly 
good looking, no money, too good-natured 
ever to have prospects; if Betty married 
Harry they would keep house like children, 
living on fudge and maple ice-cream. 

Agnes. My intuition tells me that Betty 
accepted Tom to-day. 

[Enter Dolly.'] 

Blanch. How did you tell him? 

104 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Dolly. I came right to the point, said 
I was sorry but I felt I ought to tell him 
that Betty didn't know her own mind and 
that I thought he was making a great mis- 
take not to discover where he actually 
stood in her regard. 

Agnes. What did he say? 

Dolly. Nothing. Dick never says any- 
thing. He just looked sort of queer, took 
up his hat, shook hands with me, thanked 
me for my interest and went out. I feel 
better now that it is over. I am going to 
tell Tom and Harry the same thing. 

[Bell tolls nine times.] 

Agnes. Horrors! Only twelve more 
hours before that exam ! Girls we are los- 
ing time. [Studies.] 

Janet. [Reading.] "The Perceptive 
State of Mind is not a Compound. The 
thing perceived is the object of a unique 
state of thought; due no doubt in part to 
sensational, and in part to idealistic cur- 
rents, but in no wise containing psychically 
the identical sensations and images which 
these currents would severally have 

105 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

aroused if the others were not simultane- 
ously there ". 

[Mutters to herself.'] 

Grace. [Explaining to Blanch.'] You 
see your body is the material "me" in 
you. I have it tabulated here. Self-ap- 
preciation — 

Janet. Emotion — emotion — emotion — 
'[Repeats word comically.] 

Agnes. jWell, what is the matter with 
you? 

Janet. [Seriously.] It says here that 
words lose their significance when repeated 
often. I was verifying the fact. Say 
emotion a dozen times listening only to 
the sound and it might as well be Greek. 
Emotion — emotion — 

Blanch. Emotion — emotion — 
[They all repeat the ivord ivith different 

inflections and with different speed.] 

Agnes. [At length.] Stop it, stop it, it 
sounds like mush. I never want to hear 
the word again. 
[Enter maid with pitcher of milk, glasses 

and plate of crackers, which she places 

on table. Exit] 

106 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Janet. Milk lunch ! I am starved. Fif- 
teen minutes for recreation, girls, and then 
for the final grind. [Eats.] 
[Enter Mary Foster and Edna Lost and 
more girls if convenient.] 

Maby. [Wears kimona, looks tired.] 
What kind of crackers to-night! Gra- 
ham, good! 

Edna. Have you all been working 
in here? 

Janet. Since dinner time. 

Edna. You all take Psychology, to- 
morrow, don't you? I have Math. 

Agnes. You look worn out, you work 
too much. 

Edna. "Well, what am I to do when I 
have four exams four days straight. I 
haven't taken off this dress for two days. 
This is the worst college in the country. 

Agnes. [To Mary.] Exams only ruin 
her disposition temporarily. 

Edna. [To Grace.] Suppose you have 
been grinding like an ax, too. What are 
you going to do with your degree f Meas- 
ly bit of paper after all this fuss and non- 
107 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

sense for four years. Don't know what 
ever brought rne here. 

Grace. I must teach next year. 

Edna. You'd think I had to by the way 
I am working; family were against my 
coming. Wish I hadn't come; didn't have 
to. 

Grace. You are fortunate to be able to 
feel that your future life is not dependent 
upon the getting of your A. B. Degree. 
It means bread and butter to me. 

Blanch. [To Edna.] I suppose you 
know all about your Math, you are almost 
a grind. 

Edna. Haven't begun to look at it yet, 
haven 't begun ! Don 't know a thing about 
the subject, couldn't tell you if I tried. I 
am going to flunk. 

Janet. No, you are not, you never do. 
You study more than any of us. 

Edna. 0, my dear, I don't, positively* 
You burn your light until one every morn- 
ing. 

Janet. 0, my dear, I don't, I hardly 
ever study at night. 

108 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

[Enter Betty — very well dressed in 
street suit, jaunty hat, veil, gloves, 
wears big bunch of flowers.] 

Janet. Hello Betty, back at last? 

Betty. Better late than never. How 
are you all? Gloomy? [Shivers.] The at- 
mosphere is blue. You freeze my soul. 
[Laughs.] 

Dolly. Thought you were never com- 
ing. 

Blanch. Began to think you had run 
away with Tom. 

Betty. Looks as if I had — almost, 
doesn't it? 0, we had the best time! 
[Takes of gloves.] 

Dolly. Did Tom come with you? 

Betty. Yes, he is down stairs waiting 
for me to come back. I ran up to let you 
see I had actually returned. 

Dolly. [To Blanch.] This is my 
ichance to warn Tom. [Exit.] 

Betty. We had luncheon at the " Brass 
Kettle" in town and went to a vaudeville; 
then Tom insisted upon my dining with 
him at the hotel so I sent for a chaperone ; 

109 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Miss Kay was tickled to death from the 
oyster cock-tails to the baked ice-cream. 
Then Tom motored us back to college. It's 
a glorious night, girls, the biggest, biggest 
moon ! 

Agnes. Want some milk? 

Betty. No thanks, not after that feast 
at the hotel. No cow crackers, thank you. 
I wish you could have been with us, that 
dinner was so good. It would have made 
you feel like living. You all grind too 
much in your efforts to grab a little harm- 
less degree ; — forget that you are living in 
your mad attempts to stuff your brains 
with a mass of details that you will forget 
in a week. 

Janet. You are fortunate to be such a 
brilliant crammer. 

Betty. Fiddle-sticks; I am too lazy to 
do more work than is absolutely neces- 
sary. 

Maky. Come on, Edna, we must go back 
to that Math. 

Agnes. And I to my psych. 

Betty. I, too, after Tom has gone. I 
shall then retire to my room, hang out an 

110 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

engaged sign, take some cold tea, fasten a 
towel about my throbbing temples, stick 
my feet in ice-water. [Laughs.] 

[Enter Dolly.] 

Dolly. Tom has gone. 

Betty. Gone? He said he would wait. 

Dolly. I saw him in the drawing-room 
as I passed by, and told him that as you 
had an exam to work for, he had better go 
as I knew you couldn't resist his company 
of your own accord. 

Betty. Dolly, you little villain! Did 
he go reluctantly? 

Dolly. Very. 

Betty. [Laughs.] Sweet flowers? 
Smell them, the biggest bunch he could 
buy. 

Dolly. Betty, I don't know how to tell 
you — but — but — Dr. Sike refused to sign 
your course-book to-day. 

Betty. Dr. Sike — refused — refused — 
why? 

Dolly. Too much cutting. 

Betty. Did I cut — as much as — that? 



Ill 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

But it means my degree. I'll go right 
over to Dr. Sike and tell him I — 

Dolly. You cannot plead with him. 
Professor Kichards came to call on you 
this evening. 

Betty. Professor Richards! 

Dolly. He thought that if you could 
make a high mark in the Sike exam Dr. 
Sike might relent. 

Betty. Professor Richards called on 
me, poor little me? How good of him. 

Dolly. I was surprised at his interest. 

Betty. Were you? 

Dolly. He seemed to feel quite sad for 
your sake. 

Betty. [Picking petals from flowers,] 
Did he? 

Dolly. He said you had a brilliant 
mind. 

Betty. Yes ? 

Dolly. And that it would be a pity for 
you to lose your degree on the mere tech- 
nicality of attendance. That you had done 
such satisfactory work in his course that 
he could find no cause to complain. 

112 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Betty. Does lie really think I am bril- 
liant? Did he really say sol 

Dolly. He did. 

Betty. With that same old twinkle in 
his eye? As if he were smiling at his own 
youth — and ours — and wondering if — 

Dolly. If what? 

Betty. [Evasively.] 0, nothing. 

Dolly. Betty, why did he come? Have 
you been flirting with him as you have 
with Tom? 

Betty. Flirt with a professor? No, 
[Half serious, half playful.] not with — a 
professor. 

Dolly. But to come to-night. 

Betty. It was very generous of him; 
no motive but his generosity. 

Dolly. How much of your phychology 
have you studied? 

Betty. Not much. I'll go right to my 
room and grind. [Exit.] 

Agnes. [Looking up from book.] I 
don't envy Betty beginning to cram at this 
late date, not much time left before the 
massacre. 



113 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Blanch. I've gotten to emotion — emo- 
tion — 

Agnes. Ssh!! 

[Enter Maid.] 

Maid. [With card.] Gentleman to see 
Miss Clifton. 

Dolly. I'll take the card. Mr. Harry 
Young. Beau number three. [Maid takes 
out glasses.] He is rather late in his call, 
perhaps he has heard about the course- 
book from his sister. Well, girls, wish me 
success. Poor Harry, I hate to tell him 
but it is for his own good. Betty could 
never marry him. [Exit.] 

Janet. Dolly is wasting time. 

Blanch. [Preoccupied.] The coarser 
emotions are made up of [Enumerating 
on fingers.] love, hate, joy — love; shame, 
grief — love ; love — pride — fear — and — and 
— love — anger — love — and — its varieties. 

Betty. [Enter, hat and coat off, sleeves 
rolled up, looking ready for work, pile of 
books in arm.] I never can learn it, never, 
never ; there are pages and pages that have 
no sense. Where is Dolly? I just sud- 

114 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

denly realized what it would mean to lose 
my degree. After I have worked for it 
four years. My friends at home, the boys, 
what will they say! And my family, my 
father. I can't lose it. [To Dolly who has 
just entered.] I can't possibly make an 
H. C. in the exam to-morrow ; what shall I 
do? 

Janet. Perhaps we can help you. I 
know the chapter on "Discrimination" 
best, so offer to coach you in that. 

Betty. 0, thanks, no, I couldn't take 
up your time when it is so valuable to you, 
just because I have been frivolous and 
light hearted. 

Janet. It will do me good to rehearse 
the chapter aloud. 

Agnes. I'll coach you in "attention". 

Dolly. I'll teach you the "stream of 
consciousness" and Grace knows all about 
the "self". Sit down there Betty and 
we'll take you in turn. 

Betty. If you get me through I'll give 
you anything you want even a dinner in 
town beginning with oyster cock-tails. 

Gkace. [To girls.] You see psycho- 
id 



BETTY'S DEGREE, 

logically speaking, Betty's "social me" 
is uppermost. 

Betty. My "me"? 0, yes, I remember 
all that chapter, remember reading it on 
the train a few months ago when I was 
going to meet Dick in town. I am the big 
"I" and here are all my little "me's" ma- 
terial, social, spiritual — 

Agnes. How did you remember all 
that? 

Betty. 0, because Dick didn't admire 
my new hat that day and so my ' ' material 
me" felt hurt. 

Grace. I'll use that incident as a point 
for the exam. 

Betty. Don't you apply all the things 
you learn to your own life ? Dear me, what 
is the use of learning things if you can't 
use them to show people how smart you 
really are. 

Janet. [To Agnes.'] That is Betty's 
"social me" talking. 

Blanch. What do you know about emo- 
tion, Betty? 



116 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Betty. Everything and nothing, noth- 
ing by that book. Come, tell me. 

[Girls return to their studying. Betty 
and Blanch curl upon couch, one in 
each corner.'] 
Janet. Let ns know when yon are ready 
for onr wisdom. 

Agnes. And please study in a whisper. 

[Pause while Blanch turns pages of book 
to find place] 

Blanch. [In ivhisper.] What is emo- 
tion, Betty. 

Betty. [Puckers brow.] Emotion'? 
[Well, I fancy yon wonld call it a — a — a — 
O, the dickens, what do yon call it! 

Blanch. "Tendency to feel". 

Betty. Of course, how stupid of me. 
[Pinches herself.] Ouch, I feel — emotion, 
IVe got it, go on. 

Blanch. Name some of the coarser 
emotions. 

Betty. [Hesitatingly.] Well, I should 
say. I should say — 
[Bell tolls 10, which Betty counts softly.] 

Agnes. Eleven more hours before the 
massacre. 

117 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Blanch. The coarser emotions — well — > 
Betty. Well — 
Blanch. Well — 

Betty. Well, I guess maybe — love is, is 
it? 

Curtain. 



118 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 



ACT II. 

Scene. Same. A few days later. Girls 
standing in groups waiting for the mail. 

Agnes. "Why doesn't the mail come? 
I haven't had a letter from home for days ; 
they might know I was dying of unhappi- 
ness during these beastly finals. 

Blanch. Do you suppose there will be 
any flunk notes in the mail bag? After 
that fiendish Sike exam I lived in mortal 
terror of receiving one of those dainty 
white envelopes with the college name in 
red letters on the corner, and inside a no- 
tice that I had flunked. 

Gkace. What mark did you get? 

Blanch. Only a "passed" but that is 
all I needed to get my degree. 

Grace. I got H. C. 

Blanch. Good for you. It would have 
been a pity though for you to get less af- 
ter studying so hard. 

Grace. My dear, I never study at all; 
really, I don't see how I got the mark be- 
cause I hadn't an idea about the subject. 

119 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Janet. [Aside to Blanch.'] Naturally 
brillant, you know (sarcasm) doesn't 
know a thing. 

Grace. [To Janet.] You got a merit, 
didn't you? 

Janet. I don't know how I did it, I 
hadn't any time to study for the exam. 

Grace. [To Betty.] How you do things 
on bluff I cannot understand. You didn't 
even know what an emotion was the night 
before and the next day you wrote a paper 
that scored an H. C. How do you do it! 

Betty. Experience. 

Grace. But Dr. Sike still refuses to sign 
your course-book, doesn't he? 

Betty. He says he cannot change his 
mind. Professor Kichards suggested I pe- 
tition the faculty to give me my degree 
anyway. 

Grace. Mr. Kichards seems interested 
in the case. 

Betty. He was good enough to frame a 
petition for me. 

Grace. Does he think it will be granted? 
120 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Betty. He doesn't know. I am dread- 
fully worried. Why doesn't that mail 
come, I expect the answer to-day. 

Agnes. [To Mary.] I hope Betty 
won't lose her degree. She has worried 
so these last few days that you would not 
know her for the same old Betty. 

[Enter Dolly with hag which she opens; 
distributes mail.] 

Dolly. Here it is at last, have you all 

been impatient. 
Blanch. Don't give us any flunk notes, 

Dolly. 

Agnes. If there are any, hide them 

from the public gaze. 

Dolly. Letters for Grace Weatherby, 

Janet Mackay, Mary Foster. 

[Mary receives two letters, one of which 
Dolly had slipped under the other; she 
holes at them, starts, grows confused, 
controls herself, pretends delight.] A 
letter from home ! [As she goes out de- 
spair is ivritten on her face.] 

Blanch. [Looking after her.] I think 
I saw a flunk note. Dolly, did Mary flunk? 

121 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Dolly. [Looking straight at Blanch.] 
I don't read post-marks. 

Edna. No letter for me? 

Dolly. Not yet. Betty — 

Betty. Is there one from the faculty? 
[Takes three letters.] No. Why don't 
they hurry and put me out of misery. 
What is this? [Retires down stage open- 
ing letter.] Tom! 

Dolly. That is all the mail for you, 
girls. 

Edna. Not one for me, shoot it. [Exit.] 
[Girls stroll off reading their mail. Dolly 
takes up pile she has sorted on the ta- 
ble and starts off.] 

Agnes. I'll help you distribute the mail 
in the rooms, Dolly. 

Dolly. Thanks. [Exit all but Betty.] 

Betty. [Puzzled.] Tom, I don't un- 
derstand. [Reads fragments from let- 
ter.] "We have always been great com- 
rades and you have never given me reason 
to believe that you cared for me in any 
way but that of friendship. I have spent 
two delightful years trying to give you all 

122 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

the fun my car and yacht offer, claiming 
your mere enthusiastic joy as recompense. 
I did not dream of asking more; but I 
went home the night of our jaunt in town, 
wondering why many things were as they 
are and why some things could not be as 
we wish them. Let us be serious, let 
us — " [Disappointed.'] 0, Tom, why did 
you spoil it all? Could I, do I, would I, 
shall I? I haven't thought. He must 
wait. [Takes up second letter.] Dick!! 
[Reads.] Abrupt as usual! He always 
takes my breath away. "I am asking you 
to marry me and will take no refusal". 
[Laughs.] How absurd! Yet, I — I — 
might. We've never been serious in that 
way. [Glances at third letter.] How 
strange, this looks like Harry's handwrit- 
ing. [Opens letter.] It is. How fool- 
ish ! ! You dear big boy, who put that idea 
into your head! I couldn't marry you. 
Do be sensible. [Enter Dolly.] Dolly, 
come here. 

Dolly. Letters from home? 

Betty. No, but read this and this and 
this. 



123 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Dolly. [Glances at one letter, then 
pushes it away.'] I — I — can't read a let- 
ter like that, not when a man is so serious. 

Betty. Not really serious, Dolly. It 
looks as if they were plotting to tease me. 
Only I wish they hadn't made me think. 

Dolly. No man plays a joke — [Points 
to letter.] — like that. Betty, is there one 
you like the best? 

Betty. They were all my friends and 
now — 

Dolly. "Which one are you going to ac- 
cept? 

Betty. [Startled at the boldness of the 
question.] Dolly! 

Dolly. Don't these require an answer? 

Betty. I can laugh them off. 

Dolly. [Seriously.] Do you want to? 

Betty. Perhaps — not. 

Dolly. Give them up. 

Betty. 0, no. 

Dolly. Well, then, which one? 

Betty. I don't know. There's Tom. I 
am very fond of Tom. He is witty, good- 

124 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

natured, interested in everything, loves 
racing. He is enthusiastic — 

Dolly. Has loads of money, an auto- 
mobile, yacht, pianola, phonograph — 

Betty. A girl ought not to marry a 
man who cannot give her what she has 
been accustomed to. 

Dolly. You have never had a yacht or 
an automobile. 

Betty. No, but you see Tom has 
spoiled me with his. I really adore Tom, 
Dolly, honest. 

Dolly. Then I would marry Tom. 

Betty. But what would become of 
Dick? 

Dolly. That is true, there is Dick. 

Betty. He is a splendid lawyer, and 
has quite wonderful prospects. He is 
very good-looking. 

Dolly. I don't think so. 

Betty. Why, Dolly, he is. He is tall 
and dignified. Any woman could be proud 
to show him off as her husband. He has 
nice brown eyes, and is wonderfully mag- 
netic; besides, he says in the note that he 

125 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

will take no refusal, and Dick always gets 
his way. 

Dolly. That settles the question. I 
congratulate the future Mrs. Kichard Aus- 
ten. 

Betty. But Harry needs some one who 
understands him. He is so boyish in spite 
of his twenty-five years. I should not like 
to part with Harry's devotion; there is 
something very sweet and innocent about 
it. He is very — dear to me. 

Dolly. Then, it is Mrs. Harry Young. 

Betty. But there is Tom again. After 
all he has the automobile. 

Dolly. But Dick said he would not 
take a refusal. 

Betty. And he always gets his way. 

Dolly. And Harry needs you. 

Betty. And would never get over it. 
O, Dolly, it makes me miserable, all this 
coming when I am so worried about the 
degree. Do you suppose Mr. Richards 
succeeded in winning over the faculty to 
his side? 

Dolly. Do decide upon one of the men, 
Betty. 

126 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Betty. But if Dick had not said — 
Dolly. 0, bother, you make me nerv- 
ous. Write their names on slips of pa- 
per and trust to Fate for your draw, or 
better still, refuse them all. 

Agnes. [Calls off.] Dolly, hurry, the 
committee meeting will be half over be- 
fore we get there. It is important, too, 
all about Commencement party. 

Dolly. I had forgotten it, but I am 
coming. Betty, do decide before I return. 
[[Exit.] 

Betty. [Alone, sits at table, poking 
pencil into things disconsolately.] I love 
them all. Do I? Could I? Would I? 
Shall I? Tom could not command me if 
he tried, and it is very sweet when Dick 
does. Yet Dick is so dignified he cannot 
romp and be a boy like Harry. Perhaps 
they won't want me after I have lost my 
degre. I wonder if Professor Kichards — 
[Pause of thought. Telephone rings.] 
This is Holly Hall. Hello, Dick, yes, it is 
Betty. It is strange that I should have 
been the only one here to answer the 
'phone. Yes, I received it. What do I 



127 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

think? That it is just a joke, Dick, and 
you are a big goose — and I won't — you 
forbid me to use that word to you? Then 
I won't. Want what? Use it. Marry 
you? I don't know. I must. Must I? 
Must I, really? You refuse to take "no," 
you command — well, then I — [Hangs up 
receiver hastily as if in terror.] 0, I al- 
most agreed. He makes me, I can't resist, 
I will. [In feverish haste dashes off let- 
ter.] "I cannot contradict what you say 
to me. You know me better than I know 
myself. I do love you. I love you, 
Betty." [Calls off.] Matilde! [Maid 
enters.] Take this note and give it to the 
gentleman who is coming in a few 
moments to call on me, Mr. Eichard Aus- 
ten. 

[As Betty says "Austen," Blanch 
calls "Betty" so that maid hears 
only "Mr. Richard." Exit maid 
with note. Enter Blanch, Janet, 
Grace, excited.] 
Blanch. Betty, Professor Bichards is 
coming down the walk. Perhaps he is 
bringing you the decision of the faculty. 
Janet. Isn't he stunning? 
128 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Blanch. He lias the loveliest blue eyes. 

Betty. [Runs to window.] He is 
coming here. 

Blanch. I am half inclined to come 
back to take a post graduate course with 
him. 

Betty. [In despair.] O — — 

Blanch. What? 

Betty. The letter. 

Grace. The maid is handing him a let- 
ter. 

Betty. Stop her, stop her. My letter. 

Janet. Your letter? 

Betty. She has given it to the wrong 
man. 

Grace. I'll get it. [Exit.] 

Blanch. Too late; he is reading it. 

Betty. [Wringing her hands.] It 
wasn't addressed; he'll never understand. 
Tell him it was meant for some one else. 
If I could only go myself, but I — I — could 
not face him. 

Blanch. He is going away. 

[Enter maid with note.] 

129 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Betty. [To maid.] You fool, you fool, 
to give that note to Mr. Richards. 
Maid. You said to Mr. Richards. 
Betty. To Mr. Richard Austen. 
Maid. T'aint no matter, he sent you 
one hisself. [Hands her note.] 

Betty. The college seal in red. I am 
afraid to look. [Tears it open viciously.] 
"My dear Miss Clifton: It is with the 
greatest regret I — " [Crumples paper, 
throws it aside, and falls to her knees, 
huries face in chair.] 

Blanch. [Picks up note.] Betty has 
lost her degree. 

[Girls stand about awkwardly, not 
knowing what to say. Enter Dolly, 
who understands immediately, takes 
Betty in her arms.] 

Dolly. 0, Betty, Betty. 

Blanch. ¥e can't tell you how we 
feel— 

Agnes. Don't you care about losing a 
measly little scrap of paper. Pooh, what 
is a degree, anyway! Pooh! 

Betty. [Controlling herself, rises.] Ex- 

130 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

cuse me for making a fool of myself. 
[Tries to smile.'] I guess I just felt a lit- 
tle too much, Blanch, a little too much — ■ 
emotion. [To Grace.] Did he return the 
note! 

Grace. No ; he said you must have been 
mistaken; that the note which the maid 
gave him related to his private affairs. 

Betty. To his private — he refused to 
return the note. 

Grace. Yes. 

Betty. Did he explain what it was? 

Grace. No. 

Betty. He is taking a mean advantage 
of me. Well, nothing matters now ; the 
degree is gone, my friendships are broken, 
I seem to have lost everything. 

Agnes. Pshaw; no you haven't. Tish, 
tush, what is an old degree? Friendship 
lost? I guess not. You are going right 
home with me to spend a month on our 
ranch. 

Blanch. Don't forget your promise to 
visit me in New York next season. 



131 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Dolly. And to spend August with us 
in the mountains. [Enter Maid.] 

Maid. Three gentlemen to see Mis Clif- 
ton. [Gives three cards.] 

Dolly. Betty, it is Tom, Dick and 
Harry. What are you going to do ? Have 
you decided which one it is to be? 

Betty. [Takes cards slowly; sits at 
table, takes pen and paper.] Girls, wait; 
I am going to ask you to do me a favor. 
Dolly, come here. [Dolly leans over 
Betty's shoulder as she ivrites.] "Dear 
Tom, thank you sincerely ; I cannot see you 
now. I have lost my degree. What you 
ask cannot be. I am sorry. I did not 
want to lose your friendship; it meant so 
much to me. Betty. " [Puts letter in en- 
velope.] Blanch, you know Tom Bruni- 
mel. 

Blanch. Of course, met him at your 
house-party. 

Betty. Cary him this note, and if he 
— if he — doesn't like it take him out for 
a walk; anything to cheer him. 

Blanch. Yv 7 ith pleasure. [Exit.] 
132 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Dolly. Thank heaven, that takes one 
off the list. 

Betty. [Writes.'] "Dear Harry, you 
are a dear boy, but I cannot love you as 
you wish, and yet I love you, so it hurts me 
to tell you it is impossible. It hurts me 
to think I gave you any cause to misunder- 
stand my friendship. I cannot see you. I 
have lost my degree, I have lost you. I 
am miserable. Betty. ' ' 

Dolly. Away with number two. 

Betty. Janet, you remember Harry 
Young, your favorite at my house-party 
last winter? 

Janet. I quite lost my heart. 

Betty. Give him this and be kind to 
him. He is a dear, dear boy. [Exit 
Janet. Pause.] 

Dolly. And Dick? Eichard Austen? 

Betty. [Hesitates, then writes.] "Dear 
Dick, you say 'must,' I answer 'no.' 
You almost succeeded in convincing me; 
it is now too late. Some day I may ex- 
plain; I cannot now. Your friendship is 
too precious to lose. Let me keep it, and 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

remember me always, and believe me al- 
ways the old Betty." 

Dolly. Refuse them all! Well, I 
never ! 

Betty. Take this to Dick yourself, 
Dolly; I couldn't trust him to any one but 
you, dear. 

Dolly. But why refuse him if you care 
so much? 

Betty. I don't care quite enough, 
Dolly. Please, dear, take it. [Exit 
Dolly.-] 

Betty. {Alone at table, leans head in 
hands.'] The friendship of all three gone, 
and he — the degree gone, and he — 0, I 
wonder. 

Agnes. [Throivs arms about Betty.] 
Shoot the old degree; I'll give you mine. 

Blanch. [Enters leaving card in air.] 
Betty, Tom Brummel sends you his card. 

Betty. [Reads.] "That's all right, 
old girl. I thought it was the decent thing 
to do. We'll begin where we left off. 
Yours as always, the motor, yacht and 
Tom." [Embraces Blanch enthusiastical- 
ly 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

ly.] Beturn him that, [Kisses Blanch.] 
and tell him lie is just bully. 

Blanch. I fly. [Exit.] 

Janet. [Enters with card.] Betty, an 
answer from Harry Young. 

Betty. [Reads.] "You are a brick. I 
was an a double s. Bother an old de- 
gree. Your devoted old boy. Harry." 
0, Janet, go hug him for me. 

Janet. I'll tell him. [Exit.] 

Dolly. [Enters with card.] Betty, I 
have made a big mistake. Some day I 
hope you will learn to forgive me. I 
thought you were only flirting, but I didn't 
and couldn't understand your friendships. 
Dick has told me. 

Betty. What do you mean, dear! 

Dolly. Dick says he himself would 
rather explain how my foolish remarks 
misled them. Forgive me, dear, for med- 
dling. I was greatly in the wrong. He 
sends this card. 

Betty. [Reads.] "Don't mind the de- 
gree. We all love you, little girl, and the 
three of us are aching to tell you how, and 

135 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

waiting since you will not, to swear on the 
old friendship and the old loyalty to our 
Betty. Dick." Dear, dear boys, I haven't 
lost them after all. 

Maid. [Enters.] Professor Richards 
is downstairs; he sends this note to Miss 
Clifton, and is waiting for an answer. 
[Hands note.] Girls — Professor Rich- 
ards, 0, Betty, open it quick, quick. [En- 
ter Dolly, Blanch and Grace.] We saw 
Mr. Richards. What is it about, Betty? 

Grace. Perhaps he has made the facul- 
ty grant you your degree — 

Agnes Open it, Betty; don't be afraid. 

Dolly. You look at it as if it fright- 
ened you. 

Betty. It does. [Draws away from 
girls who crowd about her, takes glance 
at it, smiles, hugs it to herself.] 

Girls. What is it, Betty; what is it? 

Betty. [Breathless.] — He — he says that 
he — he wishes — the note had been ad- 
dressed to him — that he — that is — that if I 
could consent to — to come back to college 
next year and repeat the course in 

136 



BETTY'S DEGREE. 

Psychology I could get my degree next 
June, and — and — 

Girls. [Suspecting.'] Betty, Betty, and 
what? 

Betty. And — and lie wants to know 
why it was that I cut so many of the Sike 
lectures and came to every one of his own. 

Dolly. Didn't you cut any of Mr. Rich- 
ard's lectures throughout the year? 

Betty. [Shakes head.] Not one. 

Dolly. Why, Betty, why! 

Girls. [Laugh.] "Why, Betty, why? 

Betty. Because, because — well maybe 
it was the result of an emotion. 

Maid. The answer to the note, Miss? 

Betty. Tell him the letter was ad- 
dressed to him. 

CURTAIN. 



137 






THE CLASS PLAY 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Madeline Stone (Dave, the hero). 
Constance Kemper (heroine). 

Anne Henrietta Emeline Fit^hugh (A, B, C, Man- 
ager.) 
Katharine Durkin (Heavy). 
Marie Emerson (Cute, Scene Painter). 
Frances Minor (Bunny, Class Costume Maker). 
Ruth Haggert. 
Ellen Perry. 

Mrs. McNab (Dave's Aunt). 
The Senior (also Girl I). 
The Freshman (also Girl II). 
Girls of the Class, not necessary, but more effective. 

Place. 
A College in the East. 

Time. 
Autumn. 

Plays one hour and thirty minutes. 



140 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

ACT L 

Scene. Afternoon, Dave's study; Theatri- 
cal posters, banners, decorating room. 
Furniture standing close to wall, chair 
on top of tea table. A chiffonier with 
many drawers. Room in state of confu- 
sion. ABC on floor L making red paper 
roses and white lillies. Bunny fitting 
Constance, ivho stands center draped in 
pule green sateen embroidered with 
jewels. Heavy seated R. sewing on a 
costume. 

Bunny. Dog biscuits! that seam has 
ripped again. [To Heavy.] Take smaller 
stitches, Heavy, or else have the other girls 
run it up on the machine in May's room. 
[Pins in mouth.] You are going to be a 
perfect darling in this costume, Constance, 
when it's finished. Look, girls, isn't it a 
dream? [Constance revolves.] 

Heavy. Perfectly adorable! You are a 
marvelously clever dressmaker, Bunny; 
how do you do it ? 

141 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Bunny. Oh, I don't know, it's just fun; 
I make all my own shirtwaists. 

Abc. Well, you are a wiz, and my 
greatest comfort in times like these. I tell 
you, being manager of a class play may be 
fun, but it's awfully strenuous. 

Constance. But it can 't make you nerv- 
ous as the mere idea of playing the heroine 
does me; Saturday night is only two days 
off, and each minute I am getting more 
and more fidgety. 

Heavy. Don't speak of it or you will 
put me on the rack; I nearly die of stage 
fright myself, but it's all over as soon as I 
speak my first lines and through the rest of 
the acts I have the greatest fun of my life ; 
there is nothing that warms the heart so as 
a class play. Do you think the college will 
like "The Princess Far Away?" 

Abc. It likes anything with you in it, 
Heavy, you just have to walk on the stage 
to get a laugh. 

Heavy. What a compliment, he, he, he! 

Bunny. You made a big hit as Mrs. 
Smith in our play "David Grarriek" last 



142 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

year, Heavy ; no one in college has forgot- 
ten how funny yon were. 

Heavy. I have had to try to be funny 
ever since to make them remember. 

Abc. Is that so hard! 

Heavy. Oh, no, my wit is easy to manu- 
facture, but some of it is of such delicate 
texture that only the best minds can appre- 
ciate it. 

Abc. Stung ! 

Bunny. Walk off, Constance. What do 
you think of it? 

Abc. Turn around; oh, the back is 
splendid, beautiful rich green folds; the 
train is regal. You have no idea how won- 
derfully sateen shines in the footlights. 

Heavy. Let's see the front. 

Bunny. There is something wrong with 
that, she needs silver tassels drooping from 
the shoulders or fastened about the waist. 

Heavy. Yes, that broad effect makes 
her look too fat for the Princess Far Away, 
too well fed and self-satisfied ; I have a cor- 
ner on my portly frame and am profession- 
ally jealous of encroachments on my stock 
in trade. 

143 



THE CLASS PLAY, 

Constance. Ob, dear, do change it. 

Abc. Put this garland of paper roses 
about her. 

Constance. Oh, awful, take them away. 

Heavy. Yes, that's assinine. 

Bunny. Dog biscuits ! What shall I 
do! 

Abc. She needs an Ophelia like girdle. 

Constance. Dave's got a gold sash. 

Bunny. Where is it ? 

Constance. In one of those drawers, I 
think. 

Abc. In here? 

Constance. Oh, don't; we oughtn't to 
look for it when Dave isn't here. 

Heavy. Dave believes in common prop- 
erty. 

Bunny. This room, for example, the 
general store-house and workshop for the 
class in its theatrical season. Look at that 
bedroom piled up with paper flowers, and 
Dave's in there with costumes and cosmet- 
ics. 

Heavy. Have you seen Dave in any of 
the rehearsals, Bunny? 

144 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Bunny. They say she is great. 

Heavy. Is she? Yon ought to see her 
make love to Constance. 

Bunny. I shall never forget how stun- 
ning she was last year as David Grarrick. 

Abc. [Drawing ribbon from drawer.] 
How's that? [Bunny puts it about Con- 
stance.'] 

'Heavy. Take it off, take it off, it makes 
her look like a pillow tied in the middle. 
She must look snaky, a la Bernhardt. 

[Enter Cute in sweater looking 1 a little 
grimy, carries paint pail and brush.] 

Bunny. Hello, Cute; you are just in 
time to give us the "benefit of your artistic 
eye. What does this costume need? 

Cute. May I put my pail here? Look 
out for paint. [Comes doivn stage, back to 
audience, hand on hip, other clasping 
brush.] Well, well, she needs a railing. 

Gikls. What? 

Cute. [Yawns.] 'Scuse me, I'm a little 
tired; heen painting scenery all day down 
in the basement, twisting my neck this way; 
and that, and my head hasn't returned to 

145 



TEE CLASS PLAT. 

the right spot yet. I should say a princess 
ought to wear one of those jeweled stom- 
achers yon get at the costumer's. 

Constance. Of course, put it on the list, 
r ABC. 

Abc. f Writing on paper.] This list is a 
mile long. 

Constance. Look out, you'll get me full 
of paint. 

Cute. Sorry. 

Heavy. Got the scenery done? 

Cute. [Yawns.] 'Scuse me, most all; 
we ran out of paint; the ship scene needs 
some more sky, put blue paint on the list. 

Heavy. Where are the other girls? 

Cute. [Yawns.] Who, my scene paint- 
ers? They're carpenters now; that ship 
scene was a plaguey thing to plan, but it's 
going to be great. Where's my poster? 
[Finds it.] 

Abc. Are you going to make more post- 
iers? 

Cute. This is a new one to be hung at 
the entrance to the hall ; the one I had there 
I sold for two dollars to a visitor. 



146 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Heavy. What luck; you ought to be at 
an academy learning art and not in college. 

Cute. That's the funny part of it; if I 
hadn't come here I would never have 
thought of drawing a line; when we were 
getting ready for our play, " David Gar- 
rick," last year, I was asked to fill in with 
color what one of the girls had drawn. I 
did it just to be helpful. 

Abc. And now you are head scene 
painter and carpenter for the class. 

Cute. Isn't it strange? I came to col- 
lege with the firm conviction to be gradu- 
ated a professor of languages; instead, I 
end my college career with sophomore year 
to enter the world of art. [Yawns.] 
'Scuse me, where 's Dave? 

Bunny. At a lecture; she ought to be 
here soon. 

Constance. [Showing flowers to ABC 
which she has been making.] Is that right? 

Abc. Looks like a cabbage, but I guess 
it doesn't matter. 

Heavy. I need some brown cloth for 
this, ABC, put it on the list. 

147 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Bunny. And I want about three more 
yards of white sateen, put that on the list. 

Constance. Do you suppose Dave will 
buy some candy for me? 

Abc. I guess one thing more or less 
doesn't matter, how much! 

Constance. Two pounds, I can't afford 
more this week. 

Dave. [Enters ivith books which she 
throws dozen in great haste.] Girls, do you 
think I'll make that 3:20 train to town? 
The lecture was over at 3, but I had to 
chase down to the hall to see about the elec- 
tric light bulbs; have you the list there? 
Oh, dear, I'm so late and so dirty, haven't 
had a moment to myself all day; my col- 
lar's a sight. [Puts on fresh one taken from 
drawer.] 

Abc What about the electric bulbs? 

Dave. Why, we must have moonlight or 
dawn light for the opening scene and I had 
to find out what kind of bulbs to get; the 
moonlight is worn out. 

Abc. Get along without moonlight, it 
isn't necessary and it's an awful lot of 
bother. 

148 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Dave. Play a romantic hero without 
moonlight. Besides, the book calls for 
"just before dawn." Never. Slivers, 
where is a clean stock? [Rummages in 
drawers.] 

Cute. It isn't artistic not to have moon- 
light. 

Dave. I must find a clean stock. 

Abc. I'll get you one of mine. [Exii.^ 

Dave. There's a handkerchief and 
money — gloves — only one glove, where 's 
the other— I'll never make that train; 
Heavy, look in my bedroom for gloves, will 
you? There's my veil. [Exit Heavy.] 

Abc. [Enters.] Here's a fresh stock. 

Dave. Thanks awfully. Where's the 
shopping list? 

Abc. Here. 

Dave. Read it to me. Oh, I've got my 
old pumps on. Heavy, bring me my brown 
shoes, on top of the bed, if you don't find 
them under. 

Abc. One more sailor's costume to be 
ordered from the costumer's, a box of 
rouge and 

149 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Dave. Cut that, I have all the rouge we 
need left from our musical show. 

Abc. A girdle for Constance 

Heavy. [Enters ivith shoes and glove.'] 
Here they are. 

Dave. [Tosses gloves to Bunny.] Turn 
them inside out. [Constance and Heavy 
put shoes on Dave.] What kind of a girdle? 

Constance. Jeweled around this way. 
[Dave nods.] 

Abc. Wigs for 

Dave. Know all about wigs. 

Constance. Don't forget mine. 

Girls. Yours ? 

Abc. You're not going to be stubborn 
about that light wig! 

Constance. I insist upon having light 
hair; it is much prettier to have the con- 
trast ; imagine both hero and heroine with 
dark hair. 

Abc. But with your dark complexion 

Cute. A peroxide brunette. 

Dave. I'll never make that train. 
[Laughs.] 

Heavy. You'll be a sight in a light wig. 
150 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Abc. She can't have it, I'm manager. 

Constance. Then I won't play. 

Dave. I'll get you one. Give me the list 
I'm off. [Starts out.] 

Heavy. Where's your hat? 

Dave. [Feels head, laughs.] Hat? Oh, 
how silly, I forgot it, I haven't worn one 
for a week ; where is my hat ? 

Bunny. Which one? 

Dave. Black, with flowers. 

Heavy. Haven't seen it. 

Dave. I remember, I put it in this box. 
[Takes out black hat, minus -flowers, girls 
gasp, then shriek with laughter.] I forgot 
I took off the flowers to sew them on Bun- 
ny's costume, but I haven't time to put 
them back. 

Heavy. I'll get you my hat. [Exit.] 

Bunny. Perhaps one of mine will be 
more becoming. [Exit.] 

Constance. Or mine. [Exit.] 

Dave. I shan't have enough breath left 
to run to the station. 

Abc. There is a rehearsal to-night, and 
do learn vour cues. 



151 



TEE CLASS PLAT. 

Dave. I'm going to study my part on 
the train. Do you think we'll make a hit? 
Every one is green with curiosity to know 
the name of the play and all eye me sus- 
piciously. 

Heavy. [Enters ivith hat.] Try this. 
Dave. Oh, dear, it makes me look like a 
turnip. 

Bunny. [Enters ivith hat.] Put this 
on. 

Dave. Well 

Constance. [Enters ivith hat.] Wear 
mine. 

Dave. Too small, I'll take yours, Bunny; 
thanks, have I everything now? Good bye. 
[Exit.] 

Cute. Do you think she'll make it? 

Bunny. It is as natural for Dave to 
catch a train as it is for her to run for it. 

Heavy. I'm out of breath myself. [Picks 
up untrimmed hat, puts it on to be funny.] 
The latest style, the invisible trimming; 
ladies, isn't it charming, very charming? 
Girls, when you buy a hat do you get a bill 
with it? 

Gikls. Of course. 
152 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Heavy. When do you get two bills with 
it? 

Bunny. Don't know. 

Cute. Another brilliant joke of yours, 
I suppose. 

Abc. Give it up, when do you get two 
hills with a hat? 

Heavy. When there is a bird on it. 

Gikls. Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! 

Heavy. Frivolity avaunt; 'tis not the 
time for levity; to the needle slaves that 
the hero may be clad in velvet doublet and 
silken hose; a needle, a needle, my kingdom 
for a needle. [Pricks herself on it.] 
Ouch!!! 

Cute. [Splashes paint on poster.] I 
wish Eostand could see my scenery for the 
* ' Princess Faraway. 9 9 Mr. Belasco isn 't in 
it. I've made the loveliest palace 

Bunny. [At ivindotv.] Dog biscuits, 
there's Dave coming back with her aunt. 

Abc. She has missed the train. 

Cute. Is that the aunt Dave has been 
expecting? 

Abc. The one she has lived with since 
her parents died ? 

153 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Constance. And she dreads to have 
come? 

Bunny. Yes, yes, and look at this room, 
quick, clean it up. 

[Wild confusion as girls try to set 
room to rights; spontaneous re- 
marks of "Put this there, here, take 
this." When Dave and Mrs. McNah 
enter, girls stop suddenly in awk- 
ward positions to create a laugh.] 
Dave. This is my aunt, Mrs. McNab, I 
have told you so much about ; aunt, this is 
Miss Kemper, Fitzburgh, Durkin, Emer- 
son, Minor. 

Mrs. M. [Boivs stiffly, puckers nose.] 
[What an untidy room. 

Dave. We are preparing for a big class 
play. 

Mrs. M. Very inconsiderate, indeed, I 
think, of them to impose upon you. 
Dave. Oh, I like it. 
Abc. How about the shopping? 
Dave. Here is the list, ask some one else 
to go; wasn't it a strange coincidence that 
aunt should get off the train from the city 
just as I reached the station? 

154 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Abc. I'll corral somebody else. [Exit.] 

Constance. Be sure to explain about 
my wig. [Calls after her.] 

Dave. And my moonlight. 

Mrs. M. Moonlight, wig? 

Dave. For the play; won't you take off 
your coat? 

Mrs. M. No, I shall not stay long for 
fear of interrupting your lessons. 

Heavy. Our lectures 9 

Constance ) 

Bunny. V [Soto together.] Lectures. 

Cute. ) 

Dave. Most of our lectures come in the 
morning, aunt; we may spend the rest of 
our time as we choose. 

Mrs. M. You astonish me ; as I met you, 
you were going into the city alone, unchap- 
eroned, to shop for the school? 

Heavy. The college ? 

Constance. ) 

Bunny. V [Soto.] College. 

Cute. J 

Dave. I like to do it. 
155 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Mes. M. And may every girl go without 
asking permission from the teachers ? 
Heavy. The professors ? 

£X NCE i [Soto tether.-] Profes- 

GUTE. ' ) SOrS ' 

Mes. M. Or have you earned the privi- 
lege because of good behavior? 

Heavy. [Aside to Cute.] Say, she takes 
this for a boarding school. 

Dave. We have the system of self-gov- 
ernment by which is meant 

Mrs. M. [Points to costumes.] What is 
that? 

Bunny. A costume for Constance. 

Mes. M. Charming; I am surprised to 
see a college girl sew; very well done, in- 
deed. [Aside to Dave.] I don't suppose 
she is very intellectual. 

Dave. [Laughs.] Bunny is one of the 
cleverest girls in the class, isn't she, 
Heavy? 

Mes. M. Oh, dear, what a name, do they 
— always call — you — that ? 

Heavy. I 'm not a bit offended ; it ? s my 
nickname. 

156 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Mes. M. It is startlingly frank ; do you 
sew, too ? 

Heavy. Yes, a little. 

Cute. Heavy is one of our star act- 
resses. 

Heavy. [Pretending modesty.} Now, 
Cute, don't embarrass rne. 

Mes. M. Cute!!! 

Cute. [Hurt] Don't I look it? 

Constance. [Embraces Cute.] Cute is 
the artist of the class. 

Heavy. [Holds up poster.] That's 
hers. 

Mes. M. [Astonished.] Very good, in- 
deed, very good, indeed ; what is it 1 

Heavy. [Pokes Cute.] She wants to 
know what it is. 

Dave. A poster announcing the date, 
time and place where our play is to be 
given. 

Mes. M. I am interested, my dear Made- 
line, to see how badly you can act. 

Heavy. Dave is a star. 

Mes. M. Do you still call Madeline by 
that foolish name? 

157 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Cute. It is hers ever since she played 
David Garrick so well last year. 

Mes. M. Very undignified. 

Bunny. A token of affection. 

Mrs. M. A very untidy room; what is 
this? [Picks up untrimmed hat,] Your 
hat? Where are all those beautiful roses I 
paid so much for? 

Dave. Well — you see, aunt, hats aren't 
worn — on the campus. 

Heavy. [Aside,] No, on our heads. 

Mes. M. The idea of ruining such an ex- 
pensive hat and wearing such a fright! 
[Pout from Bunny.] Where did you get it? 

Dave. One of the girls lent it to me. 

Mes. M. Madeline Stone, you haven't 
borrowed somebody's hat? I am ashamed 
of you. 

Bunny. We often borrow like that. 

Mes. M. Do you, indeed? A very bad 
habit. Look at the hat she has on now, a 
cheap, unbecoming affair. Take it off. 
[Pointing to Dave's bedroom.] Where does 
this go? [Exit.] 

Dave. My bedroom. [To girls.] Did 
you clean it up ? 

158 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Heavy. [Whisper.] Didn't have time. 

Dave. It's all up with me. [Exit.] 

Cute. Aren't yon tired of teaching peo- 
ple all abont college? I am going to de- 
part as soon as I can manage it gracefully. 

Mrs. M. [Enters.] Madeline, yon have 
lost all yonr sense of order; a room so 
small that one can scarcely tnrn around in 
it, and littered with everything. 

Heavy. Well, yon see Mrs. McISTab, 
Dave wasn't very wise when she moved 
into this snite. The bedrooms are so tiny 
that each new occnpant is confronted with 
the problem of deciding what article of fur- 
niture is of most importance, a dresser or 
a bed. We keep intact the one we consider 
the most essential to onr comfort, bnt onst 
the other, and have it painted on the wall. 
Dave kept both, and yon see it is not a bit 
practical. 

Mrs. M. I scarcely comprehend — 

Dave. Aunt, can't I offer you some tea? 

Mrs. M. I don 't see how yon can ; where 
is it? 

Cute. [Aside to Heavy.] Slivers, I shot 
the tea-caddy nnder the conch. 

159 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Dave. [Looking about.] I always have 
tea for the girls in the afternoon. 

Cute. [Aside to Dave.] Tea-caddy — 
couch — my fanlt. 

Dave. But as my room is so uncomfort- 
able to-day, we had better go to the tea- 
house. 

Abc. [Enters.] Ellen Perry took the 
list. 

Dave. You didn't send her? 

Abc. "Why not? 

Dave. Because it isn't fair to send on 
your errands a girl whom none of us like, 
or ever entertain, or even speak to. 

Abc. Pshaw! she was only too glad to 
have me pay attention to her. 

Dave. You should have gone yourself 
rather than beg a favor from a girl you 
may cut on the campus to-morrow. 

Abc. Euth Haggerty refused. 

Dave. Good, I am glad of it. 

Constance. You're too cordial to all the 
girls, Dave; it doesn't pay; you will only 
be troubled by having about you a great 
many you are above associating with. 

160 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Dave. I believe in greeting every time I 
see her , every girl I have no reason to dis- 
like; but yon greet one day and cut the 
next. 

Abc. Yon are entirely too nice to Ruth 
and I tell yon she isn't worth it ; I lived in 
her Hall last year, yon know. 

Dave. I don't know whether or not she's 
worth it, bnt nntil I find ont to the contrary 
through personal experience, she is worthy 
of my recognition, Abe. 

Mks. M. Abc, what's that? 

Heavy. Allow me to introduce to you, 
Miss Anne Henrietta Emeline Fitzburgh, 
whom we call Abc to relieve her from the 
burden of her long name. We used to call 
her Ahef, but soon changed to Abc, which 
was easier for our kindergarten minds to 
remember. 

Cute. [Aside to Bunny.] Come along, 
I'm bored to death. 

Dave. Are you going! 

Cute. Awfully sorry I have some study- 
ing to do. 

Heavy. So have I. 



161 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Bunny. That reminds me of my chem- 
istry. 

Constance. And my Greek. 

Heavy. Good-bye, Mrs. McNab. 

[Formal "adieus" and girls exeunt.] 

Mes. M. Madeline, are those the nicest 
girls in the school? 

Dave. In college! They are very popu- 
lar and influential and I am very fond of 
them. I should prefer to call them a few 
of the nicest girls in college; there are a 
great many. 

Mes. M. Are they rich? 

Dave. Not all. 

Mes. M. What are their social positions 
in their homes ? 

Dave. I can't say; they come from dif- 
ferent cities. 

Mes. M. You should make it a point to 
know. How do you gauge social position 
here? 

Dave. It depends mostly upon personal- 
ity, ability and chance. Some girls who are 
known to have social prestige at home are 
only tolerated here. While others who are 

162 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

working their way through college are very 
much respected. On the whole, a girl stands 
on her own merit, irrespective of her rela- 
tives. 

Mks. M. Are you popular f 

Dave. That is an embarrassing question, 
aunt. 

Mes. M. I scarcely believe it, or else 
they would not impose upon your good na- 
ture to do their shopping or litter your 
room like this. Nor can I understand how 
these girls to whom you introduced me are 
the representative girls of your class ; their 
clothes were shabby and their hair and 
hands not at all groomed. 

Dave. Oh, if you wish to meet the college 
society girl, I'll take you to the tea-house 
where they are to be found every after- 
noon. 

Mes. M. Then they are the representa- 
tive girls. 

Dave. By no means ; quite the contrary ; 
they spend most of their spare time at 
house parties and at theater and luncheon 
parties in town; they are very charming 



163 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

and we are fond of them, but no influence 
of theirs is felt in the affairs of the class. 
Mrs. M. Very queer reasoning, my dear ; 
I don't understand it. Are you recognized 
by the whole college as a girl of social pres- 
tige? 

Dave. Yes, I may safely say so. 

Mks. M. College social prestige? 

Dave. Yes^ I doubt if there are more 
than fifteen girls who know even the town 
I come from. 

Mks. M. It is inconceivable. But why 
are you nice to a girl whom your friends 
will have nothing to do with? 

Dave. Because Euth is in one of my 
classes, and has done me the kindness to 
let me copy her notes on a lecture I cut. 
She isn't known in the class; isn't known 
for doing anything especially well, playing 
basket ball or hockey, swimming or acting, 
or writing, and therefore my friends think 
she isn't interesting and not worth know- 
ing. 

Mks. M. They are right, I am sure. Our 
social position in Cincinnati is not great 
enough to warrant your making any mis- 

164 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

takes here; it will only stand to your credit 
at home if you make influential friends. I 
am really cross with you for jeopardizing 
your reputation by associating with anyone 
that is not admitted into the circle of the 
select few. 

Dave. I don't associate with Euth Hag- 
gert aunt; I don't know anything about 
her; I also question if she is interesting, 
but all the same I believe it is only human 
to wish her the time of day. 

Mrs. M. You are always so headstrong. 
Just like your father. Always insisting 
upon going against the current of popular 
opinion. 

Dave. [Laughs..] Quite true, aunt ; and 
now, since so much fuss has been made 
about it, I am determined more than ever 
to bow to Euth; but let us go to the tea- 
house. 

Mrs. M. I must take an early train into 
town so as to have time to unpack my trunk 
at the hotel before your uncle returns from 
his business conference. 

Dave. We have time ; excuse me just a 



165 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

moment, aunt, and I'll pin up my rebellious 
and ungroomed hair. [Exit.] 

Mrs. M. You need to do so. [Looks 
about room; picks up books.] A novel; an- 
other, and another ; all Henry James ; Mat- 
thew Arnold, Euripides, Nonsense Ehymes, 
Darwin, Bewoulf, The Foolish Dictionary, 
another Henry James, Alice in Wonder- 
land; truly a remarkable collection. [Turns 
around just in time to see Girls 1 and 2 
walk off with Dave's rug. Excited.] Here, 
what are you doing with my niece's rug? 
Madeline! drop it this instant. How dare 
you ! Madeline ! 

Gibls. Oh, that's all right. [Exit with 
rug.] 

Mrs. M. What effrontery! Madeline, 
they have stolen your rug; they — [Turns 
again to see them take out a chair.] — and 
now they are tailing your chair ! ! ! 

Dave. [Enters.] Hello! 

Girl 1. We need the rug and chair for 
the palace scene. 

Dave. All right. [Exeunt girls.] 

Mrs. M. Why — why — I never ! What im- 
pudence ! You are the most imposed upon 

166 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

girl in the school — I am ashamed of your 
meek endurance of insult ! ! 

Dave. Aunt, you don't understand. 

Mes. M. No, I can scarcely say I do ; I 
have never been in a place that has so suc- 
ceeded in upsetting me. I don't think it is 
good for your nerves to live in such a con- 
tinual state of confusion ; I must have some 
air. 

Dave. Very well. [Starts out.] 

Mes. M. Don't you lock your door? 

Dave. There is no need of that. 

Mes. M. Indeed, I think there is great 
need; at the rate they have been taking; 
your things, they won't leave you more 
than a tooth brush before night-fall. [Ex- 
eunt.] 

{Pause. ; Enter Bunny, Cute, Con- 
stance.] 

Bunny. The coast is clear, I saw them 
go out; we have to finish your costume, 
Constance. 

Cute. And I my poster. 

Bunny. People do get the strangest ideas 
about us and draw the weirdest conclu- 



167 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

sions ; you would think that a college course* 
developed us into extraordinary animals tit 
for nothing but exhibition at a zoo. 

Cute. Which species? [Crows, ba-as, 
moos, etc.] 

Bunny. It took me a year to reform the 
family habit of saying ' ' school' ' ; then, after 
I had expatiated upon the dignity of our 
courses, and the independence given to us 
as college women, they were panic-stricken 
that I was going to lose my joy in domes- 
ticity and develop into a blue stocking. 

Constance. A woman was horribly 
shocked one day when in answer to her 
question I said that the college provided 
maids to clean our rooms and make our 
beds ; her idea was to send her daughter to 
a place where she could learn how to make 
beds ; I told her that if it would take her 
daughter four years to learn how to make 
a bed, I was afraid she could never pass a 
college examination. 

Cute. Did you hand it to her as strong 
as that? 

Constance. Her stupidity incensed me; 
I was thinking of the epidemics of sewing 

168 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

fever we get before Christmas and of all 
the good dinners we cook. When I am mar- 
ried, I am going to show what a fine house- 
keeper a college girl can be. 

Bunny. So am I, to prove, if nothing 
else, that we don't have to boil water with 
a thermometer. 

Cute. The trouble is that people outside 
of college can't see enough of college life 
to understand it ; they see us grave one day 
and foolish the next, but do not know when 
to take us seriously, when frivolously: the 
world has created one pattern of college 
girl; when a girl happens to fit it, she is 
the type ; all others only exceptions. Then 
she gets fat on hot chocolate, or thin dur- 
ing exams, and is slipped unceremoniously 
into the list of exceptions. 

Abc. [Enters, worried.] Say, how can 
you make a ship creak? 

Cute. Wear squeaky shoes? 

Abc. How do you make shoes squeak? 

Cute. If that's a joke, I give it up. 

Abc. Do help me; I'm getting desper- 
ate. I've looked at your ship scene and it*s 
great ; but when the sailors are working the 

169 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

oars we must have a creaking and groaning 
for realism. 

[Girls rise, hunt about room, think- 
ing.] 

Bunny. [Scrapes chair across floor.] 
How's that? 

Constance. [Knocks hat-box against 
wall] How's that? 

Cute. My carpenters and I will find a 
way. 

Abc. [Relieved.] Oh, I hope you can 
manage it. 

Ruth. [Enters.] Is Dave Stone here? 

Abc. [To Constance.] Ruth Haggert; 
I told Dave she'd pester her to death now. 

Bunny. Dave's out. 

Ruth. Do you know when she'll return? 

Bunny. No, I don't. 

Cute. Something important? We'll give 
her a message. 

Ruth. Thank you; .it is not urgent 
enough to warrant that. [Exit.] 

Abc She is the most independent kind 
of a creature. 

Bunny. I smess she is harmless. 



170 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Constance. She goes about the campus 
In a quiet enough way, minding her own 
"business; she seems to have only a few 
friends. 

Cute. Who are they? 

Constance. A bunch of quiet grinds in 
Darby Hall that haven't any class spirit, 
and don't care a snap if we are going to 
give "The Princess Far- Away" or "What 
Happened to Jones." You must know 
about them, Abe; you were in their Hall 
last year. 

Abc. Never had much to do with them; 
I told Dave if she gave her any encourage- 
ment Euth would be hanging about her all 
the time. 

Cute. I wonder what she wanted. 

Abc. That is just a trick to get a chance 
to come again. 

Cute. Oh, I'm tired. 

[Enter Dave.] 

Dave. That was bully of you girls to 
clean my room up; I nearly died when I 
met aunt at the station; she came a week 
earlier than she had intended, because uncle 
had business in town. 

171 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Bunny. We cleaned up as well as we 
could. 

Dave. I am worn to a frazzle with the 
strain, and I am horribly blue, because I 
know aunt has gone away with the most 
awful impressions of college and us; but 
what could I do! One can't explain whys 
and wherefores in one short hour. 

Bunny. Cheer up, you can't afford to 
get peevish before the play. 

Dave. Well, I'm sick; downright heart- 
sick. 

Abc. And I'm tired. 

Cute. I'm too stiff to move. 

Constance. I'm getting a sore throat. 

Bunny. No, you are not ; you just can't ; 
you've got to play day after to-morrow. 

[Girls all doze a bit.] 

Bunny. [Suddenly.] Let's not go down 
to the dining-room for dinner, but make our 
supper up here. 

Cute. [Wide awake.] Just the thing!. 
What shall we have? I'll fry a steak. 

Bunny. I'll make waffles. 



172 



SEE CLASS PLAY, 

Constance. Let me get peas and Sara- 
toga chips. 

Abc. I'll make the coffee and get Heavy 
to help us buy the food in the village. 

Cute. Get the dishes out, Dave, and we '11 
have the stuff all cooking in the little 
kitchen across the hall before you can say 
Jack Robinson. [Exeunt all except Dave, 
who arranges tea-table. Enter Ruth.] 

Ruth. May I claim a few moments of 
your time, Dave? 

Dave. Certainly, Ruth; come in, won't 
you? 

Ruth. I saw by the registration card in 
the library that you are reading Malory; 
if you have not promised to give it to some 
one else when you have read it may I — 

Dave. I'll give it to you now; I finished 
it this morning, but didn't have the time 
to return it. [Gives book.] 

Ruth. [Takes it.] Thank you. [Turns 
to go.] I shall try to do all the reading in 
it to-night. [Almost exit.] 

Dave. Oh,— 

Ruth. Did you speak? 

173 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Dave. Why — I — won't you sit down? 
This is the first call you have ever made 
me; can't I — at least offer you the hospital- 
ity — of a chair; I can't offer you anything 
else because every eatable thing has disap- 
peared since my rooms are class property. 

Ruth. [Sits.] You have a double suite, 
haven't you, but no room-mate? 

Dave. My room-mate to be was sick just 
as college opened this fall, so I am left com- 
panionless for the rest of the year. We use 
that empty bed-room for class properties. 

Ruth. And these are the costumes and 
flowers for the play. They will be very 
effective. You love to act, don't you? 

Dave. Yes, it is great fun. 

Ruth. Doesn't it mean anything more 
than fun to you ? 

Dave. [Arrested action with tea-cup.] 
In what way? 

Ruth. You have a dramatic mouth. 

Dave. Have I? What is it like! 

Ruth. Your mirror will answer that 
question better than I can. You have a 
great deal of temperament — 

174 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

D^ve. Yes, I know that; Constance says 
I hug her too tight in the love scene. 

Euth. [Laughs.] I thought I under- 
stood you. We were talking about your act- 
ing after we had watched the rehearsal last 
night and ended with a heated discussion. 
I claimed you acted with fire, enthusiasm 
and delight, gaining your artistic and real- 
istic effects through the senses rather than 
through real understanding of technic ; you 
accept with pleasure any part the commit- 
tee gives you, memorize the lines in odd 
moments, and interpret them only at the re- 
hearsals, by which I mean, you don't lock 
yourself in this room, for instance, and 
study every sentence of your part with ac- 
companying gestures, study the meaning of 
every word, its value in regard to the whole 
play, its psychological significance. 

Dave. Oh, dear no ; nobody does that. 

Euth. An actress must. 

Dave. I suppose so, but I can't pretend 
t to be one; if I had to do all that work I'd 
never want to be in a play; I'd lose all the 
fun of it; they just give me the leading- 
parts because I'm not afraid to be the dash- 
ing lover. 

175 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Ruth. You play your part in this play 
better than you did David Garrick. 

Dave. What was wrong with my David 
Garrick? 

Ruth. You had too much of the dash- 
ing hero in your interpretation and not 
enough of the polished subtlety of the gen- 
tleman. 

Dave. How do you know all that? 

Ruth. I played the part during my 
senior year at prep school. 

Dave. How could you? You don't look 
big enough. 

Ruth. I wore French-heeled slippers in- 
side of high-heeled boots. 

Dave. How could you walk? 

Ruth. It wasn't very comfortable, but 
the weight on my feet gave me a manly 
stride and then a wig and make-up utterly 
disguised me. 

Dave. I didn't know you could act ; why 
haven 't you been in some of our plays 1 

Ruth. For several reasons; because I 
didn 't have enough courage freshman year 
to try for a part when you girls did; sec- 

176 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

ondly, I lost interest when I saw how many- 
were anxious to play, and, thirdly, because 
I have never been asked. 

Dave. You can't afford to wait until you 
are asked at college. It is a case of the sur- 
vival of the fittest. 

Ruth. A truth I learned too late. Girls 
who made hits in our first play have been 
cast and recast for each one following, and 
with justice, for they deserve them. I 
couldn 't ask to be given a part now without 
taking it away from some other girl whom 
the class favors. It was my fault that I 
missed the first chance. 

Dave. Why not offer yourself as an un- 
derstudy ? 

Ruth. I have learned all the parts in the 
play and watched almost every rehearsal 
for the practice, to be ready in case some 
girl could not play. 

Dave. How you must love work. 

Ruth. [Laughs.] It isn't work; it is 
art ; and the study of art is pleasure. 

Dave. Did you really lock yourself in 
your room and learn every part with its 

177 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

psychological insig and so forth and all 
those other things yon said, just for fun? 

Kuth. [Laughs.] Yes. 

Dave. So much work ought not to go to 
waste; why aren't you out working for 
the class instead of hiding yourself away 
from us ? 

Euth. [Soberly.] That is one of the 
problems of life, Dave ; some of us feel we 
could do great things if we had the encour- 
agement and strength of a powerful person 
to urge us on, but lacking which would 
rather never strive than undergo the tor- 
ture of a possible failure. 

Dave. But you couldn't fail; you know 
too much. 

Euth. If you had said that to me last 
year at the great moment I should have had 
the courage to try for a part. 

Dave. Don't think so much ; go ahead as 
I do; have a good time and don't worry; 
assert yourself and don't introspect; work 
for the class; you have duties toward it. 

Euth. If I have duties toward the class, 
has it none toward me? 

Dave. How? 

178 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Euth. Or anted I have never proved my- 
self brilliant, ought not the class to give 
me, every girl, the chance to show what is 
in her ? 

Dave. But how? 

Euth. Put different girls on committees 
instead of the same ones each time. 

Dave. The ones reappointed are proved 
efficient; it costs too much to pay for the 
blunders of the inexperienced. Success 
doesn't seek people in the world, you know, 
and college is a world in miniature form. 
You have to conquer sensitiveness and 

Euth. There is too much of this sensi- 
tiveness concealing a wealth of greatness 
in more girls than you dream of, Dave ; all 
they need is the chance and encouragement ; 
but the chances are seized by the self- 
assertive few, who, having gained the high- 
est honors that are offered here, look upon 
their less fortunate, less courageous, neigh- 
bors as not worthy of consideration. 

Dave. You mean the girls are not — 
cordial — I am sorry — I — 

Euth. You misunderstand me: I am 



179 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

merely defending myself from your accusa- 
tion that I am not interested in the class ; 
I am not interested because it will not let 
me be ; as for the childish snobbishness of 
some of the girls, it only amuses me ; it so 
belittles them in my estimation that their 
cuts cannot draw blood. 

Dave. I wish they could hear you say so. 

Euth. Their actions only indicate small 
minds, while your courtesy — well — if you 
should see fit to cut me — it would hurt. 

Dave. They don't really mean anything 
by it ; please forgive them for my sake, be- 
cause they are my friends. 

Kuth. I cannot forgive them, because 
they have not hurt me ; we can only forgive 
when we feel we have been wronged ; I have 
my own diffidence to blame. When I en- 
tered as a freshman last year and read all 
about the girls who had lived in my room 
for the past twenty-five years, girls, most 
of whom, had led "big" lives at college in 
their day, I felt it was my duty to be a 
"big" girl in turn; all last year I hoped 
and waited for an opportunity and when 
none came I was a coward and gave up. 

180 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Dave. {Follows Ruth to brass plates on 
ivall] You missed your opportunity. 
[Looks at plate.] Some of these girls didn't. 
Harriet Jenkins, whose name is engraved 
here, 1894-1898, was president of her class, 
secretary of Undergraduate Association 
and president of the Religious League. 
Eose Langton, 1899-1900, only remained in 
this room a year, but she is the novelist of 
that name we all know so well. Her room- 
mate, Cicely Divers, was one of the best 
actresses ever seen in college; Frances 
Warner and Frances Stewart, room-mates 
1902-1906, known as the " Twins," were 
presidents of their class and basket ball 
stars . 

Ruth. Do you know about the girls way 
back there in 1889! 

Dave. Oh, dear no; I haven't had time 
to hunt up their histories. 

Ruth. You ought to ; it is very interest- 
ing; I have written a little record all about 
my predecessors, getting my facts about 
them from old college magazines, trophies 
and pictures; and then I have written to 
those who have no friends here to tell me 



181 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

about them. Just think of the different 
kinds of girls that have lived within these 
four walls which you consider your very 
own now. They in their time felt their 
ownership and returning to-day would look 
upon you as the usurper. 

Dave. I never thought of that. 

Ruth. Sometimes when I am in my room 
alone, I conjure up before me scenes that 
might have taken place there; I begin in 
1889 with a girl named Julianna, who was 
rather pretty, judging from her pictures; 
of course, her nick-name must have been 
Jule ; I try to imagine what college was like 
then and how the girls dressed, and if it 
makes them very home-sick to come back 
and see everything so changed and find 
girls entirely out of sympathy with them 
living in their rooms ; when they come back 
after all these years they go to the old 
room, seeking there the memories of their 
college life and friendships, and find green 
curtains at the windows where their red 
ones used to hang, and photographs of 
strange faces where the familiar ones used 
to smile at them; a stranger is living in 



182 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

their room and they go away feeling that 
in all the college there is nothing left to 
them — hut memories ; I don't want to make 
them feel that way, so I've hung a little 
sign of "Welcome" on my door. [Pause 
of mutual understanding.] .Will you come? 

Heavy. [Enters, frying pan in hand, big 
apron about her.] The steak is done, Dave, 
and it is great ; it almost fell out when we 
turned it over, but we landed it finally. 
[Exit Ruth quietly.] It is a peach now. 

Cute. We have the best things to eat. 

Constance. Isn't this fun! 

Bunny. [Putting food on table.] We 
didn't have enough money, Dave, to pay 
for the things, so we charged them to you 
and will settle up at the end of the month. 

Abc. A friend of Cute's met us in the 
village and took us home in his machine. 

Heavy. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ! ! 

Girls. [Astonished at sudden mirth.] 
What's the matter with you? 

Heavy. I just thought of a joke. If an 
automobile is more expensive than an elec- 
tric, why should gasoline be more expen- 
sive than electricity? 

183 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Girls. Give it up, give it up. 
Heavy. One has to be paid for and the 
other is only charged ! ! ! 

[Hilarious laughter as curtain falls.] 



184 






THE CLASS PLAY. 



ACT II. 

Scene 1. Behind the scenes. A table 
decked with make-up. Old mirror on it; 
a fete chairs. Hammering' heard off. 

Abc. [Off.] There that will hold now. 
[Hammering ceases.] 

Euth. [Off.] Look out for your head, 
we are going to swing down the back drop ; 
catch that rope, Kate — wait a moment; 
that's it. 

Abc. Now for the sails. [Hammering 
heard.] 

[Enter Cute and Mrs. M. from L., cross 
toivard R. as if going to stage.] 

Cute. It isn't very clean in the wings, 
Mrs. McNab, but Dave thought you would 
enjoy seeing how our plays are managed. 
I'll take you across the stage to the dress- 
ing room where Dave is now. 

Abc. [Off.] Be careful — a little more 
to the right — 

Cute. [Looking off R.] We'll have to 
wait a moment, until they get that mast in 
place; you see the boat has just come 

185 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

through a had storm, hy which the sails 
have heen torn and the yards broken. 

Mrs. M. [Holding up skirt.] And you 
painted that scenery 

Cute. Doesn't it look like a galley? 

Mrs. M. Indeed it does ; and the hit of 
sky in the distance is excellent. You are 
very ingenious, Miss — Miss — 

Cute. Make it Cute. 

Mrs. M. Very ingenious, Miss Cute. 

Abc. [Off.] Steady — steady — lookout — 

Mrs. M. I am impatent to see Dave act. 
"What is she? A prince? 

Cute. No, she is Bertrand D'Allamon, 
a knight and troubadour, who falls in love 
with a princess, Melissinde — that's Con- 
stance; don't you know the plot? 

Mrs. M. Dave has been too busy to re- 
late it; I asked her to, yesterday, when I 
was doing her mending in her study, but 
she refused. The poor child was too em- 
barrassed. My dear, she knows nothing 
about acting. College dramatics, Miss Cute, 
are only amateur after all. 



186 



TEE CLASS PLAT. 






Cute — They may surprise you as much, 
as everything else in college. 

Mes. M. Well, well; then I am not yet 
fully initiated? 

Cute. [Laughs.] Not yet. 

Mes. M. Does Dave fall in love with the 
princess and does she marry her in the 
end? 

Cute. No, it is very sad ; that is the part 
I don't like about it. You see, Joffroy 
Rudel, a prince, is in love with Melissinde, 
whom he has heard about and dreamed of 
and praised in his songs. He becomes so 
ill with longing to behold her beauty that 
when his galley [points], first act, nears 
Tripoli, he is too near death to land; Ber- 
trand, that's Dave, goes to implore Melis- 
sinde to come to Eudel. Although all this 
time Melissinde has known Rudel 's songs 
about her and has loved him in return, she 
falls in love with Bertand ; then it is a case 
of "Why don't you speak for yourself, 
John?" 

Mes. M. What happens then? 
Cute. Love scene, a thriller; followed 
by deep remorse for their treason toward 



187 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

B-udel when they believe him dead, the sig- 
nal of his death was to be a black flag 
hoisted on his ship ; but the black flag turns 
out to be mourning for The Knight — 
"Whose- Arms- Are-Green ; Eudel is still 
alive and Bertrand and Melissinde much 
relieved go to him for pardon; when they 
get your emotions to this wuzzey state, the 
curtain falls on my palace scenery. Wait 
until you see that palace scenery — 

Mrs. M. Do they kill each other? 

Cute. No, everything is confessed. Eu- 
del dies in peace, having seen his princess, 
that is all his ideal, you know. Melissinde 
retires to Mount Carmel and sends Ber- 
trand to "battle for the Cross. " I wish 
they had married. [Enter Ruth and Ellen 
with divan.] Are you going to put that 
here? 

Kuth. Abe said to bring the palace 
properties in here. 

Cute. The first act is almost set ; I guess 
we can may cross now Mrs. McNab. 

Mrs. M. I shall hold up my skirt. [Ex- 
eunt Mrs. M. and Cute R.] 

188 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

EIllex. This is the last bit of scene- 
shifting I am going to do, Enth. 

Ruth. The play begins in an hour, you 
cannot be a deserter to your class now. 
The girls who act must not shift the scenes 
and carry property; that work must be 
done by the rest of the class. [Put divan 
doivn.] 

Ellex. We are welcome to the un- 
grateful responsibilities; I shall always 
regret that you are not in this cast. 

Ruth. Oh, Ellen, your heart is just a 
little bruised, and you a little jealous and 
a little unkind; jealous of the girls who 
have shown that they could act, that they 
dould score a dramatic success for the 
class, unkind in that your harbor against 
them a hatred they do not feel for you. 

Ellex. If they did not hate me they 
would not cut me ; the other day I went all 
the way to town to do their shopping ; Abe 
was very sweet when she asked me, but the 
next day she gave me the coolest kind of a 
nod. 

Ruth. You should not have gone ; I re- 
fused. 



189 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Ellen. I was delighted to be of service 
to the class. 

Ruth. It was magnanimous of you to 
go, dear; Abe's attitude in return only 
proves that she is your inferior, not worthy 
of your respect, and hence not worthy of 
your ill-feeling. If in her position as man- 
ager she asks you to help with the stage 
setting, you are serving not her, but the 
class; the shopping the other day was a 
more personal matter, and for that reason 
you should not have gone. 

Ellen. I thought she might like me 
better for it. 

Ruth. But why try to buy Abe's good 
will! You dislike her as much as I do; 
because you think she can help you to 
know the influential girls in the class? 
Friendship that can be bought is never 
true. You cheapen , its value when you 
barter yourself -respect for it. 

Ellen. I don't care so much about the 
girls, Ruth; only it hurts to see the class 
run by a few who believe themselves the 
only capable creatures in college. I could 
make a good president myself if I had the 

190 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

chance, but I am lost like a needle in a hay- 
stack ; here you are moving furniture when 
you should be playing the hero. 

Euth. Oh, no, Dave is the hero. 

Elleet. Yes, that is true; I worship 
her, especially since she has been so nice 
to you. I know she doesn't care if I am 
in the world or not, really, but she is nice 
about greeting; if she is indifferent, at 
least, she doesn't hate me. 

Euth. Why should the girls hate you, 
dear? They are too preoccupied with 
their own affairs to think of us. Our lit- 
tle band of friends is a close and strong 
one ; we love you for yourself and not for 
anything you have done; come, let us see 
how nicely we can help with the stage set- 
ting; we may prove to be so helpful that 
our latent abilities cannot fail to be recog- 
nized. 

Ellen. There isn't any one in college 
like you, Euth; if you were only appre- 
ciated as you deserve; somehow troubles 
which seem very big and ugly to me dwin- 
dle to the petty after a talk with you. 

Euth. Do they really? Then, perhaps, 

191 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

I have been able to do a little something 
after all. 

Dave. [Enters in costume, brown vel- 
vet, doublet and hose, cape, ivears dark 
hair in curls to shoulder; small brown vel- 
vet cap with jaunty quill; and Mrs. M., 
talking as they enter.] I am glad you like 
the costume, aunt. Do you think you can 
find your way out alone? [Cross L.] 
Down that little step, through the passage- 
way and then turn right. It is early, but 
perhaps you had better not stay away too 
long. Remember the Junior I introduced 
you to will meet you at the entrance at 
quarter to eight, and will sit next to you 
during the play ; I think you are not going 
to be bored. 

Mrs. M. I haven't had a chance to be 
bored for one moment since I have been 
here. Do not worry about me; play well 
and don't disgrace us. 

Dave. The turn to the right. 

Mrs. M. My dear, the turn to the left 
would bring me to the swimming pool!!! 
[Exit.] 



192 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Dave. [Laughs.] Oh, aunt knows all 
about college now. 

Ellen. You are adorable in that cos- 
tume. 

Dave. Thank you. Euth, would you 
mind going through some of those scenes 
again ? You have given me so many point- 
ers about technique that I am scared to 
death I am playing everything wrong. Let 
me try the poem first. 

Euth. Where you are encouraging the 
exhausted sailors? Very well, I'll give 
you the cue. "You have so oft on days 
when we despaired, so often told us how 
the Princess is." 

Dave. [Standing center, recites poet- 
ically, lyrically, rising to enthusiasm.'] 

"Once more, then, hear of all that's fair, 
And, sailors, let your spirits rise! 

The sunlight plays around her hair, 
The moonlight dreams within her eyes! 

When through her tresses' waving shades 
Her beauty shines, subdued and deep, 

All men in love are renegades. 
All mistresses are called to weep. 

193 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

A charm that's real, with trace so faint, 
Makes hers alone a grace that's true; 

A grace that would become a Saint 
Who'd be a strange Enchantress, too! 

Her manners captivate and strike, 
Her power conquers everything; 

Her attitudes are flower-like, 
Her intonations songs of spring! 

Such, in her pretty oddity 

That's French, but tinged with Moabite, 
Is Melissinde, the rareity 

That dwells in Tripoli and light! 

Ruth. Good. 

Ellen. Oh, that's adorable! 

Ruth. You will show even more en- 
thusiasm when the audience is there to in- 
spire you. What next? 

Dave. The ending of act two, where I 
plead to Melissinde for Rudel and she re- 
fuses to come because she has fallen in 
love with me. You take Constance's part. 
[In character.] "Alas! We dare not 
even bear him hear!" 

Ruth. You didn't feel that "alas" a 
bit. 



194 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Dave. Didn't I! How is this? Alas! 

Kuth. That sounds as if you had a 
pain. 

Dave. [Laughs.] Alas — alas — alas — 
alas — how's that? 

Ruth. Oh, why did you spoil the last 

Dave. — 
Alas by speaking! That was artistic. 
" Alas ! We dare not even bear him hear ! 
Come, Princess, with a name mellifluous, 
So he shall know in life what heaven is. ' ' 

Ruth. [Drawing hack; in character of 
Melissinde.] "You speak of whom?" 

Dave. — 
"Of this Joffroy Rudel, 
"Whose dying moment has arrived — of him 
Whose love you said you loved. 
Make haste ! I promised ! ' ' 

Ruth. "But — but you, Sir Knight, 
who are you then!" 

Dave. "Bertrand d'Allamanon, his 
brother, friend — come on then quickly ! ' ' 

Ruth. [Voice dramatic, down the whole 
scale in almost defiant.] "No!" [Pause.] 

Dave. [Awed.] You are an artist. 
195 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Ruth. [As if coming bach to earth.] 
The other scene, too? You were a little 
afraid of it last night. 

Dave. That was because I was playing 
with Constance at the rehearsal ; it is easier 
to play up to you ; you carry me with you. 

Ruth. Shall we skip to the scene where 
Bertrand is afraid to look out of the win- 
dow for fear of seeing the black flag sig- 
nalling Rudel's death out at sea? 
' ' So that I can be yours, be thine, I will. 
Not see Rudel ! I will not go to him ! ' ' 

Dave. "That window, open seaward, 
frightens me." 

Ruth. Go forward on that anxiously. 
You want to look out and yet you are 
afraid the sail is black. 

Dave. "That window, open seaward, 
frightens me." 

Ruth. [Runs to pantomime window, 
closes it, leans back against it.] 
".Well, now it's closed! — And thou art 

mine to keep! 
It's closed and shall not open again! 
Now let's forget! This palace is a world! 
"Who ever spoke of galleys, of Rudel? 

196 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

No living soul! Naught's true but our 
love ! 

Beyond this window here, the golden beach 

Extends toward the blue; no galley's 
there ! 

Some day, far off, when we shall open it, 

The window '11 show but light, and noth- 
ing more. 

And then we'll laugh. What childish 
story's this 

About the hoisting of a sail that's black? 

An idle tale, Bertrand! — the window's 
closed!" 

Dave. "You speak forever of that win- 
dow there!" 

Ruth. " 'Tis false! I see it not— I 
love thee so! Thou knowest that—" 

Dave. "Thy voice enraptures me!" 

Ruth. "The sea wind's blown the win- 
dow open, look!" 

Dave. "The window open— =" 

Ruth. "Close it!" 

Dave, "No— I fear- 
Too much I'd see, perhaps, a sail that's 
black!" 



197 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Ruth. "Then look aside, and close it 
rapidly. ' ' 

Dave. " No, no ; I f oel I 'd look ahead ! ' 9 
Cute. [Enters, interrupting quickly.] 
Dave, the girls want you to make them up ; 
can't you, come now? [Dave and Ruth 
start as if recalled to the present.] And 
here, has one of you time to mend this 
drapery? 

Ruth. I'll do it. 

Dave. Ellen, will you come with me? 

[Exeunt Dave and Ellen R.] 
Dave. Thanks, Ruth. [Exit] 

Cute. [Runs across to L.] I wish I had 
ten hands and sixteen feet. [Exits in 
hurry.] 

[Enter from L., Heavy in costume of 
Erasmus, Bunny in costume of So- 
rismonde, and Constance in costume 
and light wig.] 

Constance. I can't do it, I have never 
been so nervous, and my throat aches hor- 
ribly; I am not going to be able to play 
well. 

Bunny. Yes, you are. You cut up this 
198 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

way before every play, so we are used to 
it. Take a lozenge. 

Constance. I am not made up. 

Heavy. I'll do it for you. [Walks to 
table.[ 

Constance. Don't touch me; Heavy 
Durkin, you are just as nervous as you 
can be. 

Heavy. Pshaw! I'm not, either, I am 
as cool as a cucumber. 

Constance. Your hands are as cold as 
ice. Don't touch me. [Shivers.] I'll 
never get through it ; I wish I were in bed. 

Bunny. You would be the last one to 
give up the part. 

Constance. Who said I was going to 
give it up 1 ? You'll see me dead first I 
iWhere is that rabbit's foot? 

Bunny. I'll help you. 

Heavy. [Bites her thumb, tvanders 
about room nervously, muttering.] 
"Now, when I joined his household, gentle 

Prince, 
I meant to live in peace beneath his roof. 
One eve, at supper time, just as the knife, 

199 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

The carver's, sought a luscious turkey's' 

breast, 
And then and there, to speak of Melis- 

sinde. ' ' 

Constance. Oh, Bunny, not that way; 
it makes me look hollow-cheeked. 

Heavy. "What is it now that moves 
within my throat? [Shouts.] Hurrah! 
[Girls jump.] I shouted, too!" 

Constance. Heavy, stop being nervous ! 
Bunny, you don't know anything about 
make-up. Why doesn't Dave come? 

Euth. May I help you? 

Constance. [Surprised.] You? Indeed, 
no. You don't know anything about it. 

Euth. I have had some experience. 

Constance. Well, you can't daub 
around on me. Heavy, for mercy sakes, 
stop pacing up and down. You make me 
want to scream. 

Cute. [Enters in haste from L., ivith 
bunch of big paper lilies which she puts on 
divan.] I wish I were a centipede. [Exit 
R.I 

Heavy. [Looking off R. after Cute.] 

200 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Cute looks busy. Say, but the scenery is 
great ! We are going to make a bit ! 

Abc. [Enters from R.] Well, bere you 
are; wby didn't go into tbe big dressing 
room? 

Bunny. Too many girls; we want to 
keep Constance quiet. 

Abc. [Alarmed.] Wbat's tbe matter 
witb her? 

Bunny. Tbe same old attacks, that's 
all; sbe can't talk awfully well, because of 
her sore tbroat. 

Abc. Dose ber; sbe bas to play. 

Constance. Ob, I'll play! 

Abc. I'll never be manager again. I 
am going mad. Not a girl ready for tbe 
rebearsal and tbe audience is to be bere in 
half an hour. Now tbe curtain is stuck and 
we bad to send for tbe carpenter. Don't 
miss your cues, and do give tbe right 
ones. You got into an awful mess yester- 
day, Heavy and Bunny, speak distinctly. 
Constance, you must cross on that one line 
or you will put Dave out. Heavy, stop be- 
ing nervous ! 

201 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Heavy. I am not nervous, I am a per- 
fect lamb. 

Constance. She has been pacing up and 
down here like a tiger in his cage. She 
sets my teeth on edge. 

Abc. Constance, gracious goodness ! 
take off that wig. 

Constance. The princess must have 
light hair. 

Abc. "Well, you are a sight, the whole 
class thinks so. Who is going to make 
you up ? 

Constance. Dave promised to. 

Abc. Well, someone else has to do it; 
Dave is busy with the rest of the cast. 
Can't you do it, Heavy? 

Heavy. I have tried to, but Constance 
objects to Bunny's temperament and to 
my temperature. 

Euth. [Rises.] I have offered to make 
Constance up. 

Abc You! You don't know anything 
about it. 

Constance. I won't have her touch me. 

Euth. When a brunette wishes to make 



202 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

up as a blond, a little more is needed than 
a pot of rouge; I could make a blond wig 
very becoming to you. I regret for your 
sake that my offer did not meet with a 
more courteous reply. 

Constance. It is none of your business, 
I am sure. I don't even know your name 
and I don't care to know it. I don't care 
to talk to you; as for your impudence, I'll 
riot swallow that, either, do you hear, [Ex- 
cited, ] — you — you — 

Abc. [To Constance.] Be quiet. [To 
Ruth.] "What do you mean by exciting 
her? How do you expect her to play when 
you aggravate her like this? The class has 
got along very well without your aid in its 
previous plays and I guess it can do the 
same this time. You might as well be told 
right here and now that even if Dave is 
good natured enough to let you thrust 
yourself upon her and hang about her 
room until she is sick to death of you, 
that we are not going to stand for it. 

Ruth. I have never thrust myself upon 
Dave Stone, and when you say she is sick 
of me you are not saying the truth. If she 
were, she would not visit me in my room. 

203 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Abc. Not speaking the truth? Ha, hat 
that is pretty funny, isn't it, girls? Of 
course, she would not let you know about 
it. Dave is too good natured and stupidly 
charitable for that. But we are not going 
to stand for your pushing your way with us. 

Buth. Abc, freshman year you lived with 
us in Derby Hall you ate with us, talked 
to us and chummed with us. We were 
good enough for you until you found that 
we were not making much progress in the 
class, because chances didn't just come our 
way. Then you sought out the girls who 
held positions in college, contriving ways 
and means to become their friend; you 
planned well, you were clever, you won 
them. Since you moved to their hall you 
never see us, never know us, because you 
are afraid that if you do, you will weaken 
your position with your idols; we have 
never said anything against you, thinking 
it beneath us to undermine your position, 
but I am telling your friends now, because 
you did not recognize Ellen Perry the day 
after she had gone to town to do your shop- 
ping and because, for one moment, you made 
me doubt Dave's faith in me, that you have 

204 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

not spoken the truth. I know you too well, 
from all the experiences last year to be- 
lieve you. You thought you were pushing 
us out of your path when you left our hall, 
you thought you were leaving us yearning 
for your companionship; we have let you 
believe it while we have been laughing in 
our sleeves; you didn't leave one friend be- 
hind you in Darby Hall; there wasn't one 
girl there that voted to make you manager 
of this play. There isn't much truth in a 
girl who has to go away from home to 
make friends; the highest tribute is to be 
respected by those closest about you. That 
respect and that esteem you can never re- 
ceive from those who know you too well. 
[Exit.] 

Abc. It's not true, it's not true. 

Bunny. Ssh! We have had enough ex- 
citement. You must keep Constance quiet. 
[Calls off.] Cute, where is Dave? Tell 
her to hurry, she has to make Constance 
up. 

Cute. [Off.] Just a minute. 

Abc. I hate her ; that is all a story about 
the hall, there wasn't a nice girl in it and 
I wasn't going to stay. 

205 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Heavy. You do seem to have a keen 
appreciation for offices, though, consider- 
ing who your friends are. 

Abc. That isn't sweet of you to say, 
Heavy, dear. [Embraces her.] 

Heavy. Pshaw, I think she is impudent 
myself. 

Constance. I can't hear to see her. 

Bunny. Dog biscuits, what is the use of 
losing your temper about it! [Enter Dave 
and Cute.] Dave, you darling! That cos- 
tume is stunning on you. 

Dave. Do you like it? 

Heavy. You have never looked so hand- 
some. 

Abc. [Embraces Dave.] I'm crazy 
about you, Dave. 

Dave. How are you feeling, Constance? 
I'll make you up now; where is the cream? 
[Begins.] My, you are hot ! 

Constance. Don't turn my head like 
that, you hurt my throat. 

Dave. I am sorry you are feeling so bad % 
but you always do, you know, before you 
play. [Makes her up,] Oh, dear, I wish 

206 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Ruth Haggert were here to show me how 
to do this. She knows all about it. Cute, 
won't you get her for me? 

Constance. I won't have her, I'm sick 
of hearing about her. You wanted her to 
give me pointers about my acting, as if I 
didn't know anything about it myself; and 
as if I would take them from her. How do 
you know she can act? 

Heavy. Come, hush up on the subject. 
I am bored to death with her name. 

Cute. Who is she, anyway? 

Dave. She is my friend. 

Abc. Your friend, your enemy, you 
mean. Wait till you know her as I do. 
You haven't lived in the same hall with 
her, you haven't learned that she will sac- 
rifice everything to her ambition, which 
she hides under a mask of diffidence and 
affection. You think she has never sought 
to know you, that she has not planned your 
whole friendship. 

Dave. [Arrested action with eyebrow 
pencil.] What do you mean? 

Abc. That Ruth Haggert has schemed 
to know you, that her coming to your 

207 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

room was a mere excuse, that she is fawn- 
ing on you, flattering you, trying to use 
you as a stepping-stone to — 

Dave. Stop! I will not listen to you. 
You are slandering in my presence a girl 
who is my friend. Ruth came to my room 
to get a book and was going away with it 
immediately when I called her back, ask- 
ing her to sit down and visit me. Our pre- 
vious discussion about her only aroused 
in me a curiosity to know her better. It 
was I who drew her out, I who took the 
first steps in our friendship. I had to take 
more than half, for she is sensitive and 
diffident. I have grown to love her and be- 
lieve in her; that belief of mine ought to 
inspire you with respect for her, at least. 
If you trust me, as you make me believe, 
the mere fact that I admire her ought to 
command your courtesy. But this petty 
jealousy on your part I will not tolerate; 
I would sooner break with every one of 
vou that slanders her. 

Constance. Then you can break with 
me, Dave Stone! [Enter Ruth, unob- 
served,] For there isn't room for both of 



208 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

us in your set. Chose between me, the old 
friend, and this insignificant protege of 
yours, Buth Haggert. [Dramatic pause.] 

Dave. Euth, I am sorry you have heard 
what has been said; Constance didn't 
really mean it, not really; she will apolo- 
gize to yon! 

Constance. Apologize ! Never ! 

Dave. [Eyes flashing.] Then I do 
break with yon and every one of you that 
doesn't apologize to Euth for every word 
and thought she has ever had against her. 

Abc. Ha, ha! what do you take us for? 

Cute. Not I — 

Bunny. Nor I. 

Constance. Never, never ! 

Heavy. [Slowly to Dave.] If I had a 
friend who would stand up for me like 
that when I wasn't present to defend my- 
self I'd go down on my knees to her. I 
apologize to you [To Ruth.] for us all. 

Dave. [Embraces Heavy.] Heavy! 

Constance. [Jumps up.] She can't 
apologize for me, I won't do it. I tell you 
I hate her, never, never! 0, my throat! 
[Falls back.] 

209 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Bunny. Quick, she lias fainted, get some 
water. [Exit Abe] 

Cute. No, she hasn't, she has only hurt 
her throat ; get a nurse from the infirmary. 
What shall we do? 

Dave. [Holds Constance's head.] Can't 
you talk, Constance? [To Heavy.] They 
won't be able to hear her. 

Abc. [Enter with water.] The audience 
is coming and we haven't had a rehearsal; 
I'm crazy; we have to begin in fifteen min- 
utes. How are you? Can't you talk above 
a whisper? What shall we do, she can't 
play? 

Constance. [Trying to get up.] Yes, 
I can; you can't take a part away from 
me; I won't give it up; please, please. 

Heavy. But your voice can't carry be- 
yond the first row. 

Abc. Some one else has to take the book 
and read the part; take off* the costume, 
quick. Whom shall I get? Here, Cute, 
you do it. Oh, we are ruined, we are 
juined. 

Dave. Euth Haggert must play the part. 

Euth. [Remonstrating and most un- 

210 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

happy that she has been the innocent 
cause.] No, no. 

Abc. Put on the costume, Cute. 

Dave. Put on the costume, Kuth. 
[Enter Girls I and II and Ellen.] 

Giel I. The hall is almost crowded and 
the girls want you to begin ; you must ring 
up the curtain. 

Dave. Kuth Haggert is the only girl in 
the class to play that part. 

Bunny. You are mad! 

Abc. I'm manager of the play and I re- 
fuse to let her. 

Dave. I am a member of the committee 
and I insist upon it. 

Abc. The committee outvotes you. 

Heavy. I side with Dave. 

Dave. Heavy is for her. 

Abc. The vote is still 3 — 2 against you. 
The class will not have her. 

Dave. But I will, do you hear? 

Abc. I say you will not. What author- 
ity have you? 

Dave. The authority of a success that 
I know will be ours; she is an artist, she 

211 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

is three times a better actress than any of 
us here ; and what is more, yon will put her 
in because you refused to apologize, because 
you have made me your enemy; because I 
command it. 

Abc. I am manager, I tell you ! 

Dave. And I take the leading part I You 
will do as I command or I [Takes cap off, 
stamps on it in fury of temper.'] refuse to 
play! ! ! 

CURTAIN. 

Scene 2. Same as previous scene. After 
the play. Applause heard off, cries of 
"Bravo, bravo, Haggert, bravo, Stone, 
Haggert!" Ellen and Girl I stand look- 
ing off and listening. 

Ellen. Euth is taking another curtain 
call! Oh, wasn't she wonderful? Isn't she 
wonderful? Listen, all the upperclassmen 
are wild about her; and a senior said that 
Dave had never played so well ; that is be- 
cause Ruth coached her. [Embraces Girl.] 
Oh, I am so happy. 

Girl. We never had such a success ; it 
is an ovation, look at the flowers. There, 

212 






THE CLASS PLAY. 

the curtain has gone up again. [Applause 
heard off.] Dave wants Euth to go out 
alone but she refuses; she insists upon 
dragging Dave out with her. [To Ellen, 
ivho steps forward.] Look out, the audi- 
ence will see you. 

Ellen. Not if I peek this way. Doesn't 
Dave look stuninng in that costume! Ev- 
erybody is in love with Dave. 

Girl. They always are with the hero. 
The curtain is going down. [Sigh.] It is 
all over and I wish it were only the begin- 
ning, even if I am only a scene shifter. 

Ellen. And Euth did it. She did it. I 
knew she could. Oh, I am so happy ! 

[Enter Heavy, Bunny, Cute, Heavy 
dancing funny jig.] 

Heavy. [Singing.] Tra-la-la-la-la. Girls, 
it is a hit ! ! 

Ellen. Heavy, you were splendid! 

Heavy. Thanks, I know it, I know it I 
Ha! [Waves arms, continues jig.] Tra- 
la-la-la-la. [Mimics grand opera star.] I 
want to do it all over again, I want to 
do it all over again, again, again, again! 
I cannot live until next year when [Trills.] 

213 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

we give another play [Scales and trills.] 
pla— y. 

Bunny. [Laughing.] You are not nerv- 
ous now. 

Heavy. [Singi7ig.] Ne-er-er-er-vous ? I? 
Ne-er-erver I ! I ! I ! ! 

Cute. Did you ever see Dave play so 
well? She was beautiful against my 
scenery. [Hart tone.] Didn't you like my 
scenery? Nobody says nothing 'bout it. 

Bunny. The scenery, Cute, was worthy 
of Baphael and Titian, if they had been 
scene painters for Mr. Beiasco. 

Cute. Did you hear the oars squeak? 
They groaned magnificently. Didn't you 
feel, actually feel the stage move? I had 
to pinch myself to make sure that there 
wasn't any water underneath. I almost got 
seasick. 

Bunny. The palace was especially ef- 
fective. 

Cute. Strewn with the lilies and roses? 
Most oriental; and wasn't the sound of 
battle realistic? You should have seen 
Bertrand and the Knight clashing battle- 

214 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

axes off stage ; it really sounded as if they 
were murdering each other. 

Heavy. [Drops into chair; worn out.] 
I'm done for. 

Bunny. Dave was gloriously dramatic 
when still panting from the exertion of 
the fight, she forced her way into Melis- 
sinde's presence. 

Heavy. Dave's abandonment and en- 
thusiasm made her wonderfully magnetic. 
And Euth — how she did it without missing 
a cue is beyond me. 

Cute. It will be a seven-day wonder ta 
everybody. She has all the grace, ease 
and charm of a professional. And she 
played as if inspired ! 

Abc. [Enters.] Come out and help us 
clean off the stage. 

Heavy. Not me; I've done my work for 
the class. "Where is Dave! 

Abc. Surrounded by seniors; the au- 
dience is too slow in getting out; we'll have 
to turn the lights out soon. 

Heavy. Is Euth with her? 

Abc. [Crossly.] Yes. Well, I'm not 

215 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

going to do the work alone; if you won't 
help I'll quit, too. [Sits doivn as if tired 
and cross.] 

Bunny. No need of rushing now; we'll 
help you clean up in the morning. 

Mes. McNab. [Enters.'] I thought 
Madeline was with you. 

Abc. She'll come out presently. 

Cute. Well, Mrs. McNah, what did jou 
think of the play? 

Mrs. McNab. I am thoroughly con- 
vinced. I am speechless ! I congratulate 
you all. 

Heavy. [Sighs.] To think it is orer! 
Next week at this time I'll he a grind, try- 
ing to put some new plates into this 
[Points to forehead.] "brainograph." 

Bunny. You will find an "engaged" 
sign on my door for a few days. "Posi- 
tively No Admittance; Doing German 
Private Beading." 

Mrs. McNab. I hope Madeline will fol- 
low your example. 

Cute. Not Dave ! She crams the night 
before an exam and always passes as well 
as we do who study longer. 

216 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Mrs. McNab. I must caution her to be 
moderate; her enthusiasm carries her to 
such extremes. 

Heavy. She has the talent of grasping 
essential points at once, and never spends 
time on learning details she feels will not 
be necessary to know for an examination. 

Mes. McNab. College has been of great 
benefit to Madeline ; true, she is not as neat 
as I should wish, but I find she has made 
herself quite a power in her class. I must 
confess I have quite a different idea of 
college life from what I gathered the first 
afternoon. 

Bunny. You understand our motives 
"better, Mrs. McNab. 

Mrs. McNab. I appreciate your good 
fellowship, and realize that my ideas of 
college were too much identified with those 
of boarding schools. You live in quite a 
world of your own here, and must be 
judged only according to your laws. 

Heavy. [Enumerating comically.] Col- 
lege develops versatility, feeds the intel- 
lect, sharpens the wits, expands the inter- 
ests, promotes self-assurance, cultivates 

217 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

perception, molds character, teaches con- 
centration, enlarges and hardens back- 
bone, etc. 

Mrs. McNab. [Laughs.] I did not 
grasp it all, but I agree with you. I shall 
insist npon Madeline's coming for the full 
course, and only regret I was deprived in 
my youth of the same opportunities and 
experiences. 

[Enter Ruth and Dave in costume, car- 
rying -flowers, preferably long- 
stemmed American Beauties, tied 
with ribbon. Bunny, Cute, Abe, 
rush to embrace Dave, crying, 
"Dave! Dave!" Ellen does the 
same to Ruth. Girls draw away 
from Dave as Ellen draws away 
from Ruth; aivkivard pause. Dave 
puts out her hand gallantly, raising 
Ruth's as if to draw her forward.] 

Bunny. [Extends her hand to Ruth.] 
I congratulate you; it was a wonderful 
triumph ! 

Cute. I didn't know you had it in you, 
but I've got to just hug you. [Hugs her 
enthusiastically.] 

218 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

Eitth. [Laughs.] That is very sweet 
of yon. 

Mrs. McNab. Madeline, I am over- 
whelmed; I had no idea yon could act; in 
fact the play was professional. [To 
Rath.] I have not met yon, bnt permit 
me to offer yon my sincerest congratula- 
tions; I heard that yon played the part 
without rehearsal; your success is, there- 
fore, the more remarkable ; every one who 
sat near me could not praise you enough — 
Madeline, introduce me. 

Dave. My aunt, Mrs. McNab, Miss Kuth 
Haggert. 

Mrs. McNab. The name is familiar, 
your face also. Are you by any chance 
related to Senator Haggert, who has just 
gone to Washington? 

Euth. He is my father! [Girls start.] 

Abc. [Aside.] Why didn 't I know that 
before? 

Bunny. But why didn't you tell us? 
Euth. Why should I? 
Mrs. McNab. [Aside to Dave.] Why 
wasn't she in your room the other day? 

219 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

She is what I call a "representative" girl. 
[To Ruth.] My dear, I am so pleased to 
meet you. My sister used to be a very 
good friend indeed of your aunt. I saw 
your resemblance to your aunt imme- 
diately. I hope you and Madeline will be 
great friends, and you must visit us in 
Cincinnati. 

Ruth. Thank you, Dave and I are good 
friends. How is Constance? 

Heavy. Tucked away in the infirmary — 
Tonsilitis ! 

Euth. I am sorry ; won't some one take 
her these flowers 1 They were for her, you 
know. 

Bunny. She wouldn't accept them. 

Dave. You had better keep them, Ruth. 
You saved the class. 

Ruth. I am disappointed that you 
think she would not take them. I don't 
like to have enemies. [Looks at Abe. 
Aivkward pause.] 

Abc. [Nervously.] Won't you ,al* 
come over to my room for tea? 

Dave. It is too late to-night, but it was 
220 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

nice of you to ask us. [To Ruth.] Will 
you come home with me to spend the night ? 
There is the empty bedroom to the suite, 
you know! 

Ruth. Thank you, not to-night. I am 
very tired ; some other time, if I may. 

Ellen. Are you ready, Ruth? Let me 
carry your things. 

Girls I and II. Let me help. 

Heavy. Good-night, Ruth; I'll come 
down and call on you in the morning. 

Ruth. Thank you for giving me my 
lines that time when I almost missed them. 

Heavy. 0, you're a star. 

[Dave ivalks up to Ruth, standing cen-~ 
ter with roses.] 

Ruth. [Slowly, sincerely.] I could not 
have done it had it not been for your faith 
in me. [Poetically.] Good-night, Ber- 
trand ! 

Dave. [Raises her hand to her lips, gal- 
lantly takes off cap, saying romantically,} 
Good-night, my Princess. 

TABLEAU. 

CURTAIN. 

221 



THE CLASS PLAY 



EPILOGUE. 

Scene. Three years later. Scene, same as 
Act I, only stripped of everything but a 
jew chairs, bare table and empty desk. 
Half opened suitcase on chair, hat and 
coat over back of same chair. Room must 
look gloomy and unoccupied. 

Little Freshman. [Sits looking very 
forlorn and unhappy. ~\ Mother is on the 
train now — going — [Tears] home — there'll 
only be three at dinner to-night instead of 
four — because I'm gone; I'm at college — ■ 
all alone — there isn't anybody that cares 
about me — nobody; I'm nothing here but 
just a little freshman, and this room is so 
cold and bare and quiet — I don't believe 
anybody ever laughed in it, they must just 
have cried — Oh, I want to go home — I hate 
college — [Sob.] I hate it. [Knock heard 
at door, dries eyes, controls herself, opens 
door.] 

Senior. [With package and letter.] May 
I come in? You are the freshman, aren't 
you, who is going to have this suite this 
year? 

222 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Freshman. Yes, I am; the girl who is 
to be my room-mate doesn't return from 
Europe until next week. 

Senior. So I heard; let me introduce 
myself; Ethel Hedge, senior. I live next 
door. You just came this morning, didn't 
you? 

Freshman. Yes, mother has just left 
me; my furniture hasn't arrived yet, so 
the room doesn't look cheerful — 

Senior. Pretty gloomy, I admit, to what 
it has been with Dave in it for the last few 
years. There wasn't a gayer, more popu- 
lar suite in the whole Hall. 

Freshman. Really! 

Senior. [Going to hrass plates.] Have 
you noticed the brass plates inscribed with 
the names of all the girls who have lived in 
this suite? 

Freshman. [Reading.] Madeline Stone, 
Ruth Haggert — 

Senior. They are the last ones on the 
list, graduated last year after rooming to- 
gether for two years. Madeline, called by 
every one Dave, was always the hero in 
the plays her class gave and one of the 

223 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

most popular girls in college ; brilliant, yet 
not a great student, she had a dominating 
personality that has left a deep impression 
on college morals. There has never been 
a sweeter, truer girl than Euth Haggert, 
daughter of Senator Haggert. She was a 
finished actress and scored a wonderful 
success sophomore year when playing a 
part at a moment's notice. After that she 
was manage* of her class plays, secretary 
ofjier class, and president of Self-Govern- 
ment Association. Always modest, she had 
an inner strength of endurance that made 
itself felt and endeared her /to the whole 
college. She asked me to give this note- 
book to the girl who was to take this room, 
should she be a freshman. 

Freshman. [Takes it.] Tome? 

Senior. It is a record Ruth made of the 
girls who have occupied this suite. 

Freshman. [Glancing through book.] 
"Mary Blatchford, 1889-1892, light hair, 
blue eyes, called Duchess, because of her 
dignity; was partial to lavender." How 
interesting! There is a whole paragraph 
about her. [Turns pages.] Harriet Jenk- 

224 



TEE CLASS PLAY. 

ins, 1894-1898, president of her class, 1894; 
president of Undergraduate Association, 
1897 ; president of Keligious League, 1898 ; 
brown eyes, brown hair — Bose Langton, 
1899-1900, the novelist ! Did she live here? 
Oh, dear, I am afraid I am not worthy to 
succeed all these, 

Senior. They were "big" girls, that is 
true ; Kuth Haggert was the first to itabu- 
late them. 

Freshman. [Reading.] " Cicely Divers, 
1899-1902, excellent actress, very witty; a 
great favorite. Frances Warner and 
Frances Stewart, room-mates, 1902-1906, 
known as 'The Twins,/ presidents of their 
class, F. W. in 1903, F. S. in 1904, and both 
ibasket ball stars." The record ends there. 
It says nothing about the girls who were 
graduated last year. 

Senior. You must find out about them 
from us and then write it down. The book 
is yours now. 

Freshman. Oh, dear, but it makes me 
feel so little, so incapable of accomplishing 
anything. And I — I'd love to be a "big" 
girl, too, and worthy of them. 

225 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

Senior. [Encouragingly.] Perhaps you 
will be. I was to give you this, too — a 
package and a letter — from Euth Haggert, 
the one I told you about. 

Freshman. [Smiling.] I remember; 
Dave's room-mate. 

Senior. I'll let you open it alone. Will 
you visit me? 

Freshman. Gladly ; thank you for your 
interest. 

Senior. My room is next door. [Exit.] 

Freshman. [Opens letter wonder in glif, 
reads.] "Dear little freshman, whoever 
you are, welcome to this room ; if you are 
entering college with many friends you 
may take but little interest in these few 
words, but if you are lonely and sad, and, 
believe me, the majority of your little fresh- 
men class-mates are at this early stage of 
college life, take comfort in the thought 
that you are but experiencing in your turn 
what most of us, your predecessors, have 
experienced and overcome. The room is 
not lonely, but hallowed by associations 
that has endeared it forever to our hearts ; 
every one of us has left a bit of our thought 



226 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

and soul there, a memory of happy hours, 
work and play, and sweetest of all memo- 
ries, our friendships. We are thinking of 
you and your little room ; of it, because it 
was ours ; of you, because you have taken 
it from us; because you in your turn will 
forget it was ours and will love it all as 
your own. Be worthy of it and of us; be 
noble in deed and thought, charitable in 
speech and action, a charity far cheaper 
and more valuable than gold. If you have 
a talent seek an opportunity to cultivate it ; 
opportunities lie about you ; it is your place 
to find them, for college is a little world, 
where each one must work out her own sal- 
vation. Learn to stand alone and never 
lose your faith in self. Do not shrink for 
fear of failure; have the courage of your 
convictions; give the best expression of 
what is in you to your class and it will 
honor and reward you. Be able to feel when 
you bequeath this room and its tradition to 
the little freshman, your successor, four 
years from now, that you in your turn had 
left in here a bit of the best that is in you ; 
then you will understand what it means to 
go away, and you will love your * little 

227 



THE CLASS PLAY. 

successor' as we love you; you will sympa- 
thize with our thoughts of to-day, when we 
are wondering if you will like to remember 
us, if, when we come back to visit, you will 
let us come in for just a moment to shut 
our eyes and dream the old days back. If 
you think you could share just that little 
bit of the room with us, so that we may 
know we are not unbidden guests, will you 
hang this sign of ' Welcome' on the door? 
[Tears.] In the name of the dear old col- 
lege days, Madeline Stone, Ruth Haggert. ' * 
[Sob.] The room isn't lonely now! 

[Goes to hang, sign on door as curtain 
falls.] 

CURTAIN. 



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